


Now and Always

by jarethsdragon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Happy Ending, Multi, Rescue, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28492560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarethsdragon/pseuds/jarethsdragon
Summary: Officially, I suppose I was an “entertainer”.Not a dancer or singer or actress.  Nothing that respectable.  And saying “entertainer” was almost an insult to everything that real actors or poets or whatever did.  I did croon in a scratchy way.  I could do a sort of loose hipped swaying as my clothes dropped, but that was not dancing.How did I know what would happen?
Relationships: Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison/Original Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

Officially, I suppose I was an “entertainer”.

Not a dancer or singer or actress. Nothing that respectable. And saying “entertainer” was almost an insult to everything that real actors or poets or whatever did. I did croon in a scratchy way. I could do a sort of loose hipped swaying as my clothes dropped, but that was not dancing.

I had a bedroom in a rickety building. Third floor walk up to the door. All of us girls had a little bedroom—a bedroom that was long enough for a bed and pair of low chairs for customers to sit. The pimp controlled the building and the owner could live on the fourth floor as long as the pimp got not lip and had no troubles. We each got a room—privacy for a premium—and could decorate it more or less however we wanted so that the pimp and his men on the first floor could send up johns.

So, in 302, I had a ceiling fan and a fluffy rug. There was a floor lamp with three narrow stems—one with a red bulb, a pink bulb and a yellowish bulb for normal life. I had a skinny mirror on the back of the door and small chest in the closet to hold the... ahh... tools of my trade. The only thing that wasn’t from the back of a bargain bin or second hand store was the small safe that I had bought to hold whatever meager tips I could get.

The pimp would call me, there would be a set of heavy steps and then a knock at my door. I let him or her or even them in, do whatever, and then leave. I’d clean up—there was a shared bathroom on each floor—and then call the pimp back that I was ready again.

At the end of the day—it was a sucky job. My clients ranged in various ways not-too-bad to terrible. It wasn’t like in the movies—a rich guy was never going to find this stupid little place to take me away from it all. The “good” johns were the ones who were simply lonely or too busy to make time for a real relationship and who weren’t violent at heart and wanted a quick lay to scratch an itch. Then came various types—women in the closet or curious about being with another woman, couples looking for a thrill, nervous kids looking for experience to brag about, and men who wanted some kind of thing that their current partners weren’t into. The worst.... The worst were terrifying—people who wanted me to scream, people who coldly and sadistically wanted to test limits, people who never saw me as human and thus never wanted to care if I was in pain or scared. And groups of frat boys who pooled their money to hire a girl to take turns with—that was scary since they often were also blitzed out on alcohol or whatever.

My pimp—Tony with his greasy hair and ripped clothes and the group of buddies that provided muscle for whatever he wanted—never cared who it was, as long as they had money to pay for the girl’s time. So, if the client wanted an hour and a half of a girl in leather, yes—we had leather and a fake leather whip. If the couple wanted some kind of anime fantasy—well, Tony had a Vietnamese-American girl from Kansas that he’d dress her in a cheap cheongsam or an even cheaper Halloween kimono. If they wanted a French maid—he had that, too. If a customer wanted a sick plantation fantasy, he had two black girls to serve up. Whatever the customer wanted—and the customer was always right.

And no matter what happened, as long as they didn’t actively kill someone, the customer could do what they wanted. My first client was a small, weak little man that I thought I could handle. Tony gave him my room number and told me to do what he wanted. And he wanted rope and clothespins. No problem—I thought that it wasn’t going to be that bad. The little man tied me to the bed and I was afraid, but I was sure I could handle it. Then, he had applied the clothespins to every sensitive part of my body and then the bastard stuffed my mouth with a pair of panties and sat down to wait. Waiting and waiting and the clothespins and tight ropes had cut off circulation everywhere. I couldn’t even scream, couldn’t fight, as it made my body go numb. And as I laid there, he got off as he tightened every knot and tweaked every rope. No matter how I struggled, I couldn’t get free and finally, I could feel them tightening around my chest until every breath hurt.

What saved me was Tony calling up to me to signal the end his paid time. After ten agonizing minutes, he had come up and muscled the guy out before returning to let me go. The rope had cut into my skin and I had bruises all over. I looked like I had gone three rounds in a boxing ring when he finally took my hand and sat me up on the bed. I had never—ever—thought that I’d be that helpless.

He had simply shrugged and told me I had another customer. The big, dark clothed Latino man filled the doorway as he puffed angrily on his cigar and I panted out a shriek. Tony looked up and shrugged and waved at him. “This is your next customer, cupcake.”

“N-n-n-no... please!”

He slapped me. “Don’t bitch. You’re not hurt.” I whined and shook my head. “You’re not hurt. Just take the next client like a good girl and you won’t get hurt.”

Then, like clockwork, he left me. The guy strolled in like he owned the place, his heavy leather boots clomping on the floor. He kept smoking—the pale billows flowing around his hooded face—as he grabbed my ankles to get me to lay down and spread my legs. I bit my lip and closed my eyes as everything felt ripped up inside. A heavy, cold thing fell out of a pocket or something and I didn’t even want to know about it when the shoving pushed it against my hip. Finally, he groaned and gave me a last mighty push.

“Good girl, hermosa,” he purred. With that, he has tossed a crumpled and dirty ten on my stomach and pulled back. He picked up one of my pillows, wiped his crotch and then tossed it down before zipping up. As he left, he rumbled out, “I’ll see you later, niña.”

No, Richard Gere was not the next one.


	2. Chapter 2

One night, I got the call.

“Hey, cupcake—got a new one for you.” I snorted wearily into the phone. “He wanted you blindfolded.”

“Okay,” I muttered. That was honestly not the weirdest thing. I had been at the mercy of all kinds of people. I had been in all kinds of positions, all kinds of weird requests from costumes or dress up to all kinds of stupidity. A blindfold was honestly pretty tame, all things considered. “Sure. What’s he like?”

“Don’t you worry about it. He’s clean.” Well, that could mean anything. That he wasn’t actively high. Or that he had no weapons. Or something. “It’s good money, cupcake, so put it on and be a good girl.”

“Sure. Sure.” I sighed and fiddled in the chest until I pulled out my slick polyester sleep mask. Sliding it on, I fumbled around until I was seated on one of the chairs. “He can come up. I’m ready.”

Sure enough, there was a click and then heavy thumps up the steps. A heavy knock—like someone used to being heard and obeyed in every situation. I grimaced and shouted, “Come on in.”

The door slid open with a squeal and I felt the floor vibrate as he came in. There were shivers on the floor that vibrated under my thin soled high-heeled soles. I shivered underneath the satiny robe that I commonly wore between jobs—whoever this was, from the sound of him, he was massive.

There was a soft hiss and the sound of leather creaking. I felt my skin grow pale—not that you could see it under my makeup or in the glare of the cheap red bulb—as I pictured some bear of a guy in leather and chains. That kind of client never ended well.

He grunted and I heard a growling, hoarse voice, “Wow. You’re... pretty.”

My voice cracked and my usual smooth laugh was sharp and shrill. “You flatterer.”

“No... you’re beautiful,” he insisted. There was another creak of a floorboard. “I... uhhh.... what’s next?”

“Oh, now you’re making me blush, baby,” I gushed. “You know how this goes—.”

“N-n-no, I... I don’t. It’s... my first time. No... I mean... I’ve... I’ve fucked. But... God... I’ve....”

I tried to get things back into some kind of control. This one seemed to not be into the domination game. The trick with some guys was to take control—but subtly and gently. Just a little guiding and a few hints and they could still be “in charge” but not fumbling for whatever they thought was supposed to happen next. “Okay, honey. So what do I call you?”

“Uhh... uhm.... Can you see me?”

“Nope. Not a thing.” I waved at the mask. “Not a damn thing.”

“I guess.... you can call me....”

“Whatever you want?”

“Jack.”

“Oh... I like that.” He mumbled something I didn’t quite hear. “I mean... I’ve had two Batman’s and a Superman and a pair of.... Well... ‘Jack’, sounds really nice.” I reached up and felt a relative amount of comfort that the heavy leather gauntlets helped me totter to my feet. Great. Two or three more quips and we’d be on the bed and then back to business as usual. “So, Jack.... What’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?”

He chuckled—a low rumble. “Let me help you.”

“Sure. Let’s get comfortable, huh?”

There was a soft pause, but then a dry chuckle. “Sure thing. But what do I call you?”

“Whatever you want, baby. I’m all yours.”

“Uhh... don’t you have a name?”

“Whatever you want to call me. That’s how the game is played.”

“Can I call you....? Well, can I... this is so weird. It’s not like you’re a dog or a... a goldfish or something.”

I picked a name—any name—out of the air some time ago. A stage name or pen name so that no one knew the real me. “Sophia.”

“Sophia.” He shifted in front of me. “I... I like it.” There was a pause. “You know—I knew a Sophia in high school. She was... a cheerleader. All legs and she could shout like a drill sergeant.” He gave an anxious snort that might have been a laugh. “She... dated the football captain and... man, she never spoke to me.”

“Really?!” I gasped.

“I was too chickenshit to ask her. I mean... I was... kind of scrawny as a kid.”

My hands went to his and then trailed up to a very broad shoulder. “I don’t believe it.”

“I... uhh... joined the military. Basic will buff you up.”

“A military man, eh? Nice.”

He led me over to the bed and—to my surprise—helped me sit down. “You know—I’ve been in barracks bigger than this.” The bed sagged and I felt his large, muscular bulk down one side. “Not that I’m complaining—but... you know... Hell, I don’t mean to be like this.”

“It’s okay. You’re doing fine.” I leaned over, pressing against him. “What are you into?”

“I mean... I was kind of hoping that you’d... take the lead.”

I hesitantly reached up and put an arm around him. “You’re doing just fine. We’ll.... we’ll take it slow.”

Then came the push. The push that I was supposed to lay down and let them do it to me. I laid back—no sense inviting someone who paid for your time to punish you for not doing what they wanted. I let the robe fall open so that it was obvious that things could proceed.

It was expected that he’d lay down beside me, but it was unexpected that he pulled the robe closed over my chest and then down over my thighs. “Honey. Sofia. Just... that’s... not what I want.” I gasped as he leaned over me. “Just... Hell.” He patted my waist. “Never mind. This was a bad idea.”

I frowned. Nobody was happy if a john left early. Particularly not if he was unhappy—Tony made sure that we were tops in customer satisfaction. “What’s wrong, Jack?”

“I mean.... Just no. This is not what I want.”

I propped myself up on my elbows blindly, surprised to find myself covered completely. “Well... what do you want?”

“Could you... just...? Well...?” He pushed and shoved me around until we were lying side by side. “I just need...”

I reached around him, cuddled him close. There was nothing else I could think of doing, but it must have been the right thing because he let out a rumbling purr and snuggled into my robe covered breasts. “Baby... tell me what’s wrong.”

His arms went around me and I felt almost completely engulfed in warm leather and muscle. He grunted as I stiffly put my arm around him as well—some johns liked to pretend to cuddle or something—and I patted his short hair. The air close to him was sweet with the smell of sweat and even that short, spiky head of thick hair was sticky with it.

I was expecting the next move, the fumbling of hands in my loose robe or the shove of knees between my legs. Instead, he buried his face in my breasts. My covered breasts. “You... you are so warm. You.... Fuck. So... fucking warm.”

My bed shook with that heaving sob—like a mountain sliding into the sea—and I felt a hot, warm mouth against my skin. He whispered, “I can’t stop it.”

I sighed and stroked his leather clothes with its flat layers and heavy stitching. “What can’t you stop?” I whispered. He shook his head. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

His laughter was bitter like dark chocolate. “That’s the thing. I can’t.” I nodded blindly. “I.. I’m just... so tired. And... I can’t sleep.”

“W-w-why?”

“Nightmares. All the people that depended on me. All...” He shook again and there was that monumental shiver again. “All of the people that depended on me.”

I shivered in return. Even in this rank and humid room, I felt a chill go down my spine. “Nightmares?”

“I can’t sleep,” he grunted. “I can’t sleep because all I hear is the explosion. The screams and the whole place coming down. And I can’t do anything to stop it.” He let out a not-quite-laugh. “Baby. You have to believe me—I want to tell you, but I can’t.”

“I believe you, Jack. Just let it out,” I crooned softly.

He let out a snort and I stroked his hair, traced the sparse stubble going down his sharp jawline. The earth shook and I seemed to be at the epicenter as I let him shake against me. He wasn’t here for a fuck like everyone else and I could bet my entire stash on that.

He was here because he had no one else.

I let ‘Jack’ stay there. He must have been exhausted, because those sobs and shivers smoothed out. He quieted as he laid there, at last silent and still. I moved slowly to put my hand down and he rumbled softly, “Hey, that was feeling good.”

“Okay, Jack,” I murmured. I kept doing that—those low strokes through his hair, first ruffling it up and then smoothing it down. He let out a purr and snuggled down against my body. “Okay.”

He laid there a few minutes and then I felt him jerk. A hard kick or something and I let out a squeal as his booted foot kicked my ankle. Suddenly, he was awake and I heard the singing sound of metal pulling out.

A knife.

I went stock still and silent, waiting.

He shifted with a heavy thud on the bed. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

“Did what?” I squeaked.

“I... Hell, I had another nightmare, didn’t I?” His large hand—gloved hand—went to my ankle and gently touched the bruised scrape. “Fuck. I hurt you.”

“It’s nothing—,” I whispered.

The knife went back into its sheath. “No. I don’t mean to hurt you. I don’t even have anything on me to help.”

“I’ll be fine,” I muttered.

“I’m gonna—.”

Whatever he was “gonna” do, it was interrupted by the sound of my phone. Without looking at it—I knew it by the ringtone—that it was the pimp downstairs. Jack’s time was up.

“I’ll.... I’ll go.” He muttered something sourly and added, “It’s....”

“I’ll be fine,” I singsonged. I had said this many times before and would say it many times in the future. I sat up and tugged the robe closed from where it had gaped loosely open. “It... It was nice meeting you, Jack.”

He climbed out of my bed and stood on the creaking floor. “Umm...” I heard rustling and wheezing of leather shifting and felt his heavy glove—a biking glove or something—and felt him take my hand.

I was shocked to feel him shake my hand. It was surreal—usually people slunk off or tried to go in for an uncomfortable hug or a last sloppy kiss—but he shook my hand like in a movie business meeting.

“It... was nice... meeting you,” he muttered with a growl.

“Yes—it was nice meeting you, too, Jack,” I said with an artificially bright voice.

There was a long, awkward pause of silence. “It was nice meeting you, Sophia. And... I am.... Hey—could I see you...? Next week?”

I blushed and grimaced. Ah, yes, the awkward request for a meeting—outside of this place. A few people tried to arrange for “coffee” or a “drink” to see if they could get a free hour. Free service. “I... umm... I can’t.” My phone range again. “Look.... I, uhh....”

He grunted, “I guess that means my time is up?”

“I’m sorry.”

I was.

There was a long pause again and I felt him press some paper in my hand. “Look... this is all I have. But... I’ll come back.”

“Sure. I’ll be here.”

“Just... don’t take the blindfold off, huh?”

“Man of mystery?” I gurgled a laugh. “Okay. But if you’re here too much longer....?”

I heard the sound of my door closing and the boots on the steps again before I pulled off the blindfold. He was gone and when I looked in my palm, I saw a hundred dollar bill around some others. More than I could have made all night. I shoved it into my little safe and answered my phone.

“Ehh... no freebies, ehh, cupcake?”

“Sure.”

“Next one’s coming up.”


	3. Chapter 3

For some reason, it felt momentous that on Labor Day, Jack showed up again. Tony had me put on the blindfold and for reasons I couldn’t explain, he had us all put little flags up or to wear red, white and blue outfits. I half expected that he had some kind of cheesy commercial about a Labor Day half off sale and one of those flopping, dancing air tube guys like at used car lots.

I waited patiently until I heard the knock on my door.

“Come in.”

The door squeaked open and the floor thumped with the sound of heavy boots. I felt a brush of leather gloves and sighed as large hands helped me to my feet. I hated high heels and—of course—that was all I had.

I started out with an artificially bright voice that I hoped hid that I had honestly not slept this entire weekend. “Hey, baby. It’s nice to see—or not see—you.”

“It’s me,” rumbled the deep voice.

I struggled to think about the voice. I had more than a few that wanted me blindfolded and, honestly, the dark and deep voice wasn’t overly familiar. “Umm... hey, baby.”

“It’s Jack,” he whispered with a low voice.

Shit—I had disappointed him. I could hear it. I could almost feel it as his hands began to drop away from mine. “Oh... yeah. Jack.”

“Don’t... you... remember me?”

“Of course, Jack.” I didn’t remember him specifically. I couldn’t even think. “H-h-how could I forget you?”

There was a long pause and finally he whispered, “Yeah.” His hands went to steady me as I wobbled on the heels. “Could... we lay down again?”

“Of course,” I whispered. “Just...”

“Don’t worry—I’ll lead.”

He gently guided me to the bed and I climbed on and laid down on my back. “You coming, Jack?”

The bed dipped low and I felt him lay down beside me. When he began tugging the woefully scanty crop top up to cover my breasts, I finally remembered him. I gasped as his face—scrubby and stubbly cheeks scraping my skin—burrowed into my neck. He was... that Jack.

“How are you doing Jack?” I asked as I began to stroke his short hair.

“It’s been... tough.” He grunted and snuggled closer into me. “I can’t sleep.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” I quipped. “I can help with that.”

He grunted sourly. “That’s... not what I meant.” I felt him pull up and away. “Maybe... this was a bad idea.”

“No. No, baby,” I crooned. He didn’t move even a smidge. “I’m sorry.” He still didn’t move and I could almost see his frown through the blindfold. “I’m really sorry, Jack. I... I suck at jokes.”

He was still for another moment and then sighed. “I... I guess it’s okay.” He laid back down. “It’s... just... today was the day.”

I waited until he had laid down again before daring to ask, “W-w-what is today?”

Jack let out a sigh. “It’s... stupid.”

“You don’t... need to tell me—if you don’t want to.”

That was the right thing to say, apparently. “Baby. You are too much.” His arms went around me and I sagged in them. “But... I can’t sleep tonight. Never have been able to—not since that night.”

“There... was an accident?” That made sense, in a way. If he had been in a car wreck or something, he might be shy about anyone seeing any scars or something. I had seen a john once that had been in a bad wreck and his face had been torn up. That would make sense. “A... bad accident?”

“Yeah,” he whispered against my collarbone.

I waited and only petted his hair. For some reason, I thought that it would be.... Well, as fine and silky as it felt, it would be blond. Or black, maybe. I picked black in my head. His skin felt leathery, too—so it made sense that it would be darkly tanned.

“Sophia?”

“Yes, Jack?”

“You know—I can still... hear it.”

“Hear what, Jack?”

“I... can hear the explosion. All the fire and... ash and all....”

I went very still. Big guys like this didn’t fall apart at nothing. “And then what?”

“I... I don’t remember. The explosion. I... was in a meeting. Stupid Tuesday meeting all hands. I hate Tuesdays. And then a bright light and... a feeling like I was... flying. I remember seeing stars and... hearing a thud.” His grip tightened as every muscle seemed to tense. “I... saw stars. Then I saw the... rafters.” He let out a shuddering breath. “The rafters... just... shook. Dust... began to fall and... it... hit my... eyes. I sneezed.”

“Baby....”

“There were... more explosions.” His voice cracked as he kept whispering. “I... don’t know how many. But I saw the chairs in the room shake. Then cracks.... They kept crawling up from the floor to the ceiling.”

“My God.”

“I... was chickenshit scared. Like I... I wanted to pee myself.”

I took in a quick breath. “Baby. Jack—you....”

“I wanted to run. Like a coward. I wanted to run like a coward.” He sobbed against my skin and his grip was frustratingly tight. “Everyone was running and screaming. I was afraid... I’d get caught in the building, so I ran to the exit. Everyone was running to the exit. And then the... the building outside—the... the shipping depot—collapsed. Everyone just... screamed and... they kept trying to get out.”

“What happened to you?”

“I... went in and... threw a chair through... a window.” It made me clench. “It was like suddenly everyone became... an animal. They began breaking windows and shoving everyone else aside. Even when people were shoving into and out of closets and debris fell to hit people.”

“You got out?” I felt another flinch. “Yeah... okay, stupid question.”

“That... is what happened. On the day.... That day. The whole place... just came down.” He was sobbing softly. “I... didn’t realize what... what was happening. I... didn’t even think about what.... I didn’t even think about who was in the building still. Not until I was o-o-out.”

“What happened next?”

“I... I turned. I looked at the burning building and.... I saw a... a... a hat. Stupid. I saw a hat... in front of me. It was... dirty. People—they were trampling everything. The flower beds were torn up and there were... there were ripped up flowers and dirt tracks everywhere and they kept stomping on the hat. All I could think was, ‘that... person needs to take... better care of their uniform’. I don’t know what I was thinking. And when I... I finally woke up to... to go in again—to get anyone—I saw... another explosion. It threw me back—off my feet—and the building just—just collapsed.”

I had no words. I simply held his head on my chest and stroked his hair. What a horrid thing to... witness. “My God, Jack.”

“I... I hated it.” I was about to ask if... if he went back. If he knew what happened. “But... I.... There’s nothing I can do. I keep seeing them—the hands and feet sticking... out of the rubble. I keep hearing them scream.” I shook as I gently touched his cheeks. “I keep... seeing the explosion over and over and over. And I cannot... do anything to... help them.”

“And...?”

“It’s... so hard. I’m so... cold. And alone. I’m... one of a few... of the ones that survived. I... don’t know... if anyone is....”

“Why are you here?”

“I want to... to feel like something—someone—out there.... Someone wanted me to.. to come home.”

Could there... be... anything else he could have said? Anything else that would make me feel even more like a completely fraud? “Baby—just come home.”

“H-h-home?”

“Come home. Just... come home to rest.”

“I can’t.”

“Lay down. Take a breather.” I stroked his hair and my shaky voice dipped even lower. “You can come home. Rest.”

“I can’t.”

“You can relax. Just... relax. With me.”

“All I hear are screams.” He hissed and it sounded like a whip. “All those people who... depended on me. Then they all died.”

I gasped as his arms tightened around me. “Baby, you did your best.”

“It wasn’t good enough.”

I scrambled for something to say. “Live on. They live in you. Live your best life.”

“My life...? It’s a waste. A wasteland.”

I hated the crack in my voice. The cheese filled words that never helped anyone, but that everyone seemed to say. “I want you to rest, Jack.”

“I can’t. All I see is the battlefield. And death.”

“Close your eyes.”

“The war follows me there, too.”

“Come home.”

He squeezed some fraction tighter and I gasped. “Relax, Jack. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ve... forgotten how,” he murmured. His arms loosened slightly even has he nuzzled my skin with his sharply stubbled cheeks. “The explosions are in my bones now.”

“Let the dust settle, darling,” I whispered hoarsely. “Let the light shine through.”

He let out a soft protest against my skin and I finally felt his arms relax. One hand drifted to cup my breast but then he seemed to shake himself and his hand went to my shoulder. Restlessly, his fingers rippled over my skin, massaging and gripping and releasing as if he couldn’t decide if he was coveting a ripe fruit before his first juicy bite or lovingly testing fine leather. Either way, he let out a reverent breath and then stroked my skin lightly.

“You are... delicious,” he whispered. I was elated to think that he had come out of his funk, only to hear him say, “And here I am, spoiling it all.”

My heart sank to my toes. “Baby....”

“Don’t let me spoil you,” he whispered against my collarbone. “Don’t let me hurt you. Or....” He paused. “Hell, I’m going to bruise you if I’m not careful—aren’t I?”

“No... You’re fine,” I insisted. “I’m fine.”

He nodded slowly and then was still and silent, except for his busy thumb that kept roaming in little figure eights with incredible attention. I stayed there, just laying quietly as he tried to absorb whatever quiet and calm I could give him. I don’t know how long he laid there, but I kept praying he had somehow found whatever it was that would help. And maybe it did because it didn’t seem like any time passed before he nuzzled my neck and then began snoring.

Again—the bane of my existence—my phone rang. Jack groaned sleepily and I thought I heard a grunt of ‘five more minutes’ as I fumbled around until I picked up. I patted his hair soothingly and flipped it open.

“H-h-hello?” I croaked.

“Cupcake!” crowed Tony. He seemed abnormally cheerful and I shuddered as I wondered if he was high, too. “Cupcake—you still got that guy?”

“Uhh...”

“Never mind,” he interrupted. “Babe—you need to get freed up.”

“What? Why?”

“Your next guy is here. And Gabe’s paid a shit ton for you tonight.”

“But—?”

“Hey—tell him that you got another date. It’s not like he’s some kind of romance, right, cupcake? Or do my boys need to throw him out?”

“No... n-n-n-no... wait.” I had no idea whether or not Tony’s boys could beat Jack, but I didn’t want to find out. “Give me—.”

“Baby—he said he’d be here in five minutes. You got like... I dunno—maybe 2?”

I snarled and rolled my eyes beneath the mask. “Fine.”

I tapped Jack sharply. He snorted and sat up restlessly. Snapping the phone closed, I sat up as well. “I’m sorry, Jack. Time—.”

“Time’s up, huh?” He yawned. “I guess... time flies, baby.”

“J-j-j-just... we need to hurry—my... next appointment—.”

Things felt like they shifted and he pushed away. My bed felt like it inflated as he got to his feet. “I... I guess that’s....” I whispered, “I have... to—well, hurry.”

He growled and stomped once. “I... I really don’t like leaving you like this.”

“Yeah—you’re saving a fortune on sleeping pills,” I chuckled.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “There’s that. But—.”

“Please hurry.” I felt my skin grow pale. “M-m-my... next guy. He’s.... he’s huge. He’s... gonna be here and... and....”

“Copy that,” he muttered. “But... you’re gonna be okay, right?”

“Yes! If you get out of here quick.” I thought for a moment and then stumbled in the direction of the door. “Look—have you paid Tony?”

“Yes! He got it all up front,” Jack growled.

“Okay—so he won’t care if you climb down. You can go down the hallway to the fire escape.”

“Great thinking,” he purred.

There was a loud, bass shout downstairs. I flinched as it got louder when Jack opened the door. “Damn—he’s here already. He sounds mad, too. Jack—go down the fire escape.”

He was gone with a heavy thump of boots and then I heard the vicious Spanish in the stairwell. Boots were stomping up the steps and I tugged off the mask to toss it on my dresser. First, Gabe never seemed to want such things. My screams and whimpers were usually enough of a turn on for him.

And I didn’t want to give him ideas.


	4. Chapter 4

It was two weeks before I got the call again.

“Get out your blindfold, cupcake. I’m sending him up.”

I groaned in pain. I had bruises on my wrists and thighs and felt scraped up everywhere else from the last john—the big Latino named ‘Gabe’ who seemed to relish my screams. Then he pushed my face into my pillow before rough fuck from behind. Somehow I didn’t think that I could do another job tonight. It’s not like I had a choice in the matter—the john was coming up no matter what—but I didn’t like it.

“Can’t I pass?” I croaked out.

“Come on, cupcake. He asked for you special.”

I wanted to throw up. I couldn’t face another person. I couldn’t do it. “Please... no.”

“Cupcake—I’m sending him up.”

The line went dead.

I drug my body out of bed and tugged on my new robe. I had finally splurged on a new robe but everything else went into my first ever bank account. At the time, I felt such an unbelievable high—look at me being an adult with a real account and everything—but now, I could barely move and every limb felt bruised.

I snatched up the blindfold just in time and slid it on as the knock on the door sounded. I forced myself to sit on the bed and winced as I called out, “Come in.”

The door opened and the floor vibrated as the new one came in. “Hey, Sophia.”

I shuddered at the deep rumble of his voice. “Hey.”

“Don’t you recognize me?” I gestured towards the blindfold. “Oh... I guess.... It’s me—Jack.”

‘Jack’? It took me a dizzy few minutes to figure out which ‘Jack’. “Oh, Jack! Yeah...”

He walked over and I felt the brush of cold glass. My fingers curled around it instinctively. I was going to say something, but then I heard him growl, “Jesus—what the hell happened to you?”

His hands began drifting over my skin and brushing the robe aside. “You’ve been beat the hell up.” His hand wrapped gently around my wrist. “What sick fuck did this to you, Sophia?”

He pushed what apparently was a wine bottle in my hands. I felt the warmth as he knelt in front of me. “What happened? You can tell me, Sophia.”

“It’s... it’s okay.” I chuckled painfully. “It’s... a....”

“I’m gonna make sure that nobody hurts you again,” he growled. “Just... give me a lead.”

“I’m fine. It’s okay.” I pushed the bottle on the bed and reached blindly to touch his head. Finally I found his jaw, his scarred cheeks. “And... hey, this is our time. So let’s not waste it, right?”

He was stock still under my hands. “He’s gonna hurt you, isn’t he?”

I leaned close to him—close enough to kiss—and whispered, “Don’t cause.... Don’t cause me trouble. I mean.... I’ll get in trouble if... if someone gets into a fight.”

“Look. I’ll let it go, but I’m going to talk to that creep downstairs.”

“Just don’t. I... I am.... I’m saving up. I’m gonna go to school. Or... something.” I sighed into his ear. “I’m saving up for... for a car.”

He growled low in his throat—like a panther. “I don’t like it. You deserve—.”

“Hey—no one forced me to run away from home. Or to come here,” I explained.

I probably explained badly, because his hands covered mine and pulled them down between us. Jack whispered, “I’ll.... But I’m—.”

“Please, Jack. Let it go. Just let it go.” I felt tears in my blind eyes. “I don’t need any trouble. I can’t.... I can’t lose this.”

He grunted and pulled up. Well, fuck. I am the world’s worst at this. I couldn’t think what would be worse—if he picked a fight with the pimp and ended up in the hospital or if he went after one of my customers.

It was the worst minute of my life before he grunted. “Look... I’m sorry. I can’t.... I just can’t. You need a... a drink or... or something. I don’t have shit on me.” He paused. “Look... what happens if I leave for a few minutes?”

“W-w-why?”

“I forgot something.”

I sighed. “I don’t know. If you’re not back soon, then you’re out of luck.”

“I’ll....”

I shrugged. “I mean... I got all kinds of... things.” My voice cracked. “I even have like condoms and sponges, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The door was closed again and I was alone before I even got it out. I heard the boots on the steps. My spine tingled to hear—three floors up—male voices roaring downstairs. I was never going to see Jack again. The pimp would have him beaten up and toss him out and he’d be forbidden from coming up again. Worse, he’d probably be handed over as a vagrant or troublemaker or a drunk or something to the police so that they’d work him over, too.

Things around here just worked like that.

I took the bottle of wine and buried it into one of my drawers. Whatever it was. Towards dawn I’d be off and could look at it. I pulled myself together—I had to—and sat on the bed to wait for that next call.

Sure enough, my phone rang and I picked it up.

“Yeah.”

“Cupcake. Get cleaned up. Apparently, you have a fan.” I moaned softly. “He’ll be up soon, so—.”

“Tony—what happened to Jack?”

“Jack?!” My pimp grunted sourly. “Who are you talking about?!”

I could hear him counting money in his head. “The last guy.”

“Him?!”

“He said to call him ‘Jack’. So what happened to him?”

Tony snorted again. “Yeah—that big guy. He came through and said he needed to get something.”

I said a prayer. “And... then?”

“He left, cupcake.”

“Just... like that?”

“Yeah—why?”

I didn’t know what to say. “Oh. Okay.”

“Get cleaned up for your boyfriend, cupcake.” Tony always said I had ‘a fan’ or a ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’. “Like I said—you have a fan and he asked for you special. Now make it snappy. Get cleaned up like a good girl. Or did you want me and the boys to come up?”

I took the shortest shower I could and reapplied my makeup. Whatever the pimp had in mind, I didn’t need him bringing his boys up to force me to go faster. The girl down the hall had caused trouble like that and the boys had clunked up the steps. She had gone to the emergency room and hadn’t cause problems since. Of course, she had to wear even more makeup now. No more bikinis or anything like that, either—she was afraid to come out of her little apartment in anything less than a pair of long pants and a long sleeved shirt.

I didn’t see Jack again that night. I didn’t expect to see him again. To my surprise, I found his parting gift was actually a very nice bottle of wine when I opened it up and drank some. Jack had good taste in wine—and apparently expensive tastes, too. So, I toasted him in regret and hoped he had good insurance.


	5. Chapter 5

The next night, my pimp called me and told me that I needed the blindfold again. I pulled it on again and waited. Heavy boot steps came up the steps and I dared to hope that it was Jack. Of course, I had hoped that it was Jack with every heavy step, and, honestly, it was getting old. Every time I told myself that it was stupid and that Jack had probably been hospitalized.

But if I saw him again, I’d tell him that he needed to find himself a good girl and move on.

So, when I got the call, I braced myself. Jack was a good man. A decent guy who worried about even a prostitute who had a bad night. Honestly—I was surprised he had ever some into a seedy place like this. I put on the blindfold and waited.

His steps were lighter, faster, up the steps. I hadn’t ever heard anyone come up three flights that fast. He knocked twice and then came in.

“Sophia!” he laughed. “I’m back!”

I couldn’t resist laughing back. Thank God—Jack wasn’t in the hospital. He didn’t even sound hurt—especially not if he could climb steps like that. I stood up shakily and went over to where I thought he was and held out my hand.

With a nervous grunt, he took my hand and shook it with a strange formality. “Hey—aren’t you glad to see me?”

“Yeah—of course!” Impulsively, I reached up around his neck. “I’m... glad that you’re okay.”

“Oh! Downstairs. Yeah.” He reached up and scratched his hair. “It was... a bit.... Never mind.”

I felt him shift and something heavy and lumpy bump my body. He stepped back and guided my hands down to what felt... wicker.

“I figured downstairs would get mad if we left, so I brought us a picnic.”

“Umm... what about—?”

“I paid for... I think he called it ‘the girlfriend experience’?” Jack squirmed. “I’m supposed to have like a few hours.”

I nodded and tears were filling up the blindfold. The girlfriend experience usually involved pretending that I totally adored some creep as we went to his reunion or class party or something—a few hours of smiling and simpering and doling out kisses and endearments like they were Christmas cookies. The creep got the eye candy on his arm and I got out of here for a bit before coming back to give him the obligatory end of the evening service. No—this would be totally different and a few hours of warmth and I could only anticipate how wonderful this would be with someone who didn’t treat me like a cheap toy. “That’s... that’s nice. That’s great!”

He led me over to the bed and spread out a blanket. I was somehow just sure that it was red and white checked as he helped me sit down again. He dug around noisily and I was shocked that he handed me a huge plate that he promptly loaded up with a sandwich and chips and deviled eggs and a thick pickle. I fumbled to set it down on my lap.

“W-w-what is this?”

“Well, I thought... maybe you’d like... a....?” I could feel him squirm on the bed, almost tipping my slippery grip on the plate. “I wanted.... I thought—maybe you’d like something... more conventional.”

“So, this is... like... a date?”

He let out an anxious sound. “This was.... Maybe this was a bad idea?”

“N-n-no! I like it,” I rushed to reassure him. The plate slid and I rushed to grab it, only to hear some chips hit the floor. Well, they were a lost cause now, because I couldn’t see them. “So, what... am I eating?”

“Hold on,” he mumbled. Another plate slide and chips hit the floor. If I hadn’t been famished, I would have been upset, but then there were two more heavy thuds on my floor. He shifted again. “So I have learned a thing or two and I took off my boots.”

I gingerly picked up the sandwich. It was... enormous and stuffed with cold cuts, lettuce, tomato and mustard. I could barely get my mouth around it finally took a mouthful that seemed mostly bread and vegetables. The pickle was icy cold and crisp with an almost terrifying crunch. Jack pushed a thermos into my hand and I was shocked to find the coldest and sweetest tea I had ever tasted.

I was struggling with the sandwich when I heard him rustle in the basket again. “Oh please—this is plenty!” I tried to get my lips around the sandwich again, and failed only to get a mouthful of meat and bread and mustard. “I... I really think—.”

Something else hit the floor and with a click—some peppy, noisy music. “I even brought music.”

“You are too much!” I laughed. God—how long had it been since I laughed like this? “It feels like we’re in a park somewhere for like the fourth of July.”

“Only the best for you.” He snorted and rustled around again. I wrestled with the sandwich for a few more moments when I felt him get off the bed. “Now, hold still.”

I heard a mechanical click and the hum of something starting up. There was a momentary flash of light that crept around the sleep mask I used as a blindfold. I felt him take hold of my ankle and set my feet on something as if he was cradling eggs in his hands. I heard a few more clicks and then a feeling almost like an electric shock flow up from my heels to my legs, my waist and up to my shoulders and down my arms. The plate on my lap tipped as I jerked at the strange sensation. My sandwich slid to the bed with a splat and the pickle went somewhere else. I would have cried out, but my teeth instinctively clenched at the almost painful sensation and my jaw practically locked shut.

I almost passed out and time seemed to crawl as seconds stumbled past. The sensation simply flowed up—not radiating but flowing in an almost palpable circle. Abruptly, all my muscle aches eased. Even the ache in my grinding teeth vanished.

My body went suddenly limp and everything slid away from me as I felt faint. I slid off the bed and thumped to the floor in a boneless sprawl. Jack’s things went sideways—I heard the second plate hit the floor. He spat out, “Damn. I forgot how hard the big medpacks hit the first time.”

Med...? What? I couldn’t think for a long moment. I felt him gather me up in his arms like I was a toddler and settle me in one of my two chairs before going back to clunk around, sounding like he was picking up the plates. He gave me a plate with (hopefully) a new sandwich and the thermos.

“Drink. Eat,” he barked hoarsely. “You’ll feel better soon.”

“W-w-w-what was that?” I whispered.

He paused long enough to huff out a breath. “That was a RX-L-0900.”

“A... RX... what?!”

“It will make you feel better,” was his only explanation. “Promise.”

I took a shaky sip of tea. I was feeling remarkably better. All those annoying little aches and the mushy, bruised places from last night felt firm, healed. Even my head felt clearer. I managed to gulp down some more tea, take a few bites of sandwich.

Finally, I managed to get up the nerve and ask, “So... what is an RX-XL—?”

“An XL? No.” He puffed out a breath. “Those hurt too much. You’d—.” There were heavy steps and he picked up my hand... “Unless... are you still hurt? You were supposed to be healed up with just the RX-L.”

“What? I-I... What the hell are you talking about?”

His hands drifted over me, checking my skin and feeling my pulse and putting a rough palm to my forehead. “Mercy said that you’d be fine.”

“Mercy? What?” I took in a shaky breath. “Who?”

He picked up everything and moved the basket off the bed. Again there was that stomach dropping feeling as he simply... picked me up and carried me back to lay me on the bed.

“Jack... what’s going on?”

“You’ll be fine, baby. Just rest.”

“But... how...? Aren’t...?”

“Shh. I’ll clean up.” He padded around my tiny place like a caged panther. As he was packing the radio or whatever it was, he murmured. “I just wanted you to feel better, baby.”

“I’m... just... kind of tired now.”

“It’s okay. You’ll be tired for a while. Just take a nap.”

“But.. aren’t you supposed... to—? Aren’t we supposed to...?”

He let out a little laugh. “Baby... I paid good money for a few hours. So, if I say that you are supposed to rest—isn’t the customer always right?”

I was almost asleep. As much as I felt better—I had kind of expected to have more energy. I barely noticed when he sat down beside me at the bed. Sleepily, I reached out to his leg. “Jack, baby—aren’t you gonna lay down?”

He let out another sound and finally seemed to agree, “I suppose. After all, I did all the work to sneak it in here.” I was going to laugh, but then he stuttered, “I.... That didn’t sound right. I... really don’t see you like that—not like I bring you some sandwiches and you owe me anything.” I heard a soft, husky chuckle. “It’s not like that, right, Sophia?”

“No, baby. Jack... just like to...” I yawned and pulled myself up to put my head on his thighs. “I just.. I like—.”

“Is that... really what you want?” He felt my forehead again. “You’re not feverish—I don’t think.” His hand was rough and warm. “Maybe I should get you out of here. Take you to Mercy.”

“Mercy... where is that?” I asked wearily.

Instead of answer, his fingers began trailing through my hair, combing all the way from my scalp to the ends of my hair. Long, slow strokes that were soothing and luxurious and made me sleepy. Sleepier. I mumbled something and nuzzled his heavy pants.

“That’s right, baby,” he crooned. “Even the best medpacks will wipe you out.” He patted my skin, stroked my hair away from my face. “Just get some sleep—old Jack’s right here.” 

I sighed in pleasure that rocked through me. When was the last time someone had cared for my pleasure? The last time someone hadn’t been shoving me on the bed as fast as I could be physically gotten there? Everyone was counting every last second before the pimp said their time was up.

Tears leaked out without me wanting them to. I couldn’t help them. Everything collapsed in me as those large, strong hands kept going. After the tears, wretched sobs pushed out and choked me until I was biting my lip to keep them in.

Jack saw me like that—a sniveling child crying in the dark against my teddy bear—and he crooned, “Baby, don’t be like that.”

With that, he pulled me up in his arms. My head bounced along his heavy jacket, scraped lightly along his zippers until I hit his chest. My hair tangled in the zipper tabs, gripped his leather coat. My sleep mask pulled down and I saw brilliant blue leather, but as soon as I stopped moving, he tugged it down again.

Instead, he kept tugging until I was in his lap. Not just on his lap, but comfortably cradled with one blanket or other over my waist and legs. Then, of all things, when I thought he couldn’t have been more gentle, he began rocking slightly back and forth.

I never cry. Mainly because I can’t cry prettily. Not like in the movies where the girl gets a soft spot of red on her nose and cheeks, a little discrete circle of L’Oreal Lucious Red eyeliner around her eyes, and then two darling little tears on her cheeks that are plastic in their perfection.

I cry like a disaster movie. I am noisy and I get hiccups and my cheap makeup never stays put no matter how many times it is marked “waterproof”. Dark lines will go all over my face until I look like a zebra that never moisturizes. My lipstick always becomes a wet, ugly mess of cheap red that flows down like frown lines on a clown. I get hiccups and then I jerk and cough and my nose flows like a faucet.

Jack only held on to me, rocked me and stroked my hair away from my face. “Baby—you’re tearing me up here.”

I sobbed wildly, “Why are you doing this?! Why are you being so— s-s-so nice?!”

That made him pause his rocking and his hand hovered over my ear with long tangles of my hair around his fingers. “Honey—it’s the medpacks. Calm down. You’re just tired.”

“You’re being so nice. Why are you being so nice? I mean—like w-w-why are you being so nice—to me?!”

He nuzzled my hair lightly. “Baby. Don’t fall apart on me.”

“I d-d-don’t und-d-erstand!”

“You are such a sweetheart,” he whispered. “I don’t—.”

“Tell me why!” I demanded, clutching at the rolls of smooth leather.

His voice was quiet and... almost forlorn when he asked, “Why wouldn’t I?”

I tugged at the heavy jacket. “I am... just a whore. Don’t you get that?! I am here because I don’t have anywhere else I can go! I am a whore!” I do not cry prettily, and I was exhausted when I ended up saying, “I am... just a... nothing.”

Then I realized he was crying too.

“Baby. Don’t.... Just don’t do this,” he whispered above me. “Please, baby. You are....”

“I am nothing,” I whispered.

“You are not,” he insisted as he brushed my hair with a kiss. “You are... so....”

I took in a shaky breath that was thick with the scents of leather and sweat and some strange ozone scent that seemed soaked into the coat. “Baby... you are a good man.” I felt him stiffen. Jack seemed about to protest and I couldn’t stop it. “Jack. You’re a good man. And I don’t have... anything. No, baby—listen. Go. When you get out of here, I want you to promise me something. I want you to promise me that... that when you leave here—.”

“NO,” he hissed against my hair. His arms tightened almost to a painful point and he shook as if he would shatter in some earthquake of his own making. “Don’t—don’t do this.”

“Promise me.”

There was that stiffening again. An oak in a storm that will rip up everything when it falls. “What... do you want?”

“Jack—you’re such a good guy. A really nice man.” My fingers were almost numb as I gripped the thick leather. “And... I want you to go find a good girl. A nice girl who hasn’t fucked half the city. A girl who isn’t in deep to a pimp and up to her eyeballs in debt and who... who....” I stumbled here, trying to find the words to convince him. “I want you to find someone that is all yours and who can... ca-can give you two kids and a... a house and family and a cat and a dog and hot dinners and... and all that shit I’ll never b-b-be able to give you.”

“Baby—don’t.”

I couldn’t help it. I broke down right there. “I want you to have it all. A good m-man like you deserves to have all the happy ever after.”

“I-I-I am not,” he whispered so softly I think he was not even aware he had spoken.

There wasn’t another thing to say, another thing to do. The sunny, happy moments with the unexpected picnic were now buried under snowy piles of something so powerful we could only shiver in it. I knew. I knew from the first that I was never going to be one of those girls—one of those girls with a good man who was going to be there in better and worse and sickness and health, the house, the minivan, the porch swing where I could watch my children and grandchildren with warm embers of memories of happiness and love.... I knew it from the first. From the first time, from that moment when I first moved into this crummy apartment, from the first phone call from my pimp, from the first time I put on my makeup and slid into something cheaply sexy, I knew from then that my life would not end in sunlight....

The phone rang, shattering even the shaky stability we had managed to gather. It took a another ring before either of us managed to take a deep breath. Then, everything fell into a terrifyingly clear way. I shuddered one more time and pulled away from him. He rose and I fumbled to help him pick up everything. At least we got the potato chips up, chased the lonely pickle that was trying to escape under my bed. Whatever he smuggled in, he smuggled out again.

Except for my shattered dreams that were in shards on my floor.


	6. Chapter 6

I got sick.

It wasn’t a surprise. I was chasing every john I could get. I begged for more. I was up for twelve hours of work and kept begging for more. I wanted to forget. I wanted to get that callous over me, to not feel that I was losing a part of my heart every time I laid on the bed. I wanted to feel nothing. I wanted to go back to that cool, calm person I was before I had met Jack—the one that wasn’t falling in love with the idea of a quiet wedding in a little chapel and a small house somewhere.

I had gotten sick before. You couldn’t do this without it. I knew every cheap doctor, every urgent care that would take cash. I had taken every generic antibiotic ever made. I had a shoebox in my dresser that had lozenges, cough syrup, my two prescriptions, ordinary and generic pain killers, and my last tiny bottle sleeping pills. Still, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t catch my breath when I tried to climb my steps.

Even my pimp finally managed to see that sending johns up only to have them come down shouting that they weren’t going to go near someone hacking up a lung like that.

So, he finally gave me a few nights off. It was going to cost me, dearly—he would charge me the usual rate for my room and the coffee and donuts that we could occasionally get from him and his cronies in the basement. Aside from that, we had a small kitchenette on the second floor—the smallest possible concession to cooking facilities Tony could possibly squeak by on an inspection—and I managed to get a crate of cheap, canned soups along with a bowl.

I spent a day and a half wheezing under my blanket with my bowl of hot salt water—there wasn’t a chance in hell that that “soup” had ever seen a chicken—and sleeping. Yeah, I still had a nightly fee for my pitiful apartment, but at least I was able to sleep without someone pounding on my door.

The third night, I realized that my money was going down the tubes too fast, so I took a heavy dose of cough medicine and drank an amazingly large hot coffee to counteract the fact that I’d be just about out of my head. I would barely be able to remember anything, but maybe that would be a good thing—since I rarely wanted to think about what they did to me.

I had three utterly conventional clients—two men and a woman—before I got the next call. “Cupcake—he’s back. Your fan wants the blindfold.”

“Yeah. Okay. Whatever.” I sighed heavily and swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to avoid that deep and rattling cough that might scare whoever was there. “Sure. Send him up.”

There was a long pause that I barely comprehended. Then he muttered, “Okay, cupcake.”

He hung up and I tossed the phone aside. I pulled up the robe and laid back down on the bed to await my next destruction. I heard the heavy steps outside and then a polite knock. It pounded in my head and I let out a moaning whimper.

“Baby—are you in there?!” came the low growl.

It was Jack.

For a moment, I was thrilled. He had somehow come back. He wouldn’t be rough or too demanding. Hell, this time he might even do something. He might even kiss me.

I rolled over and limped from the bed to the chest of drawers to get the sleep mask. “Hold on.” One more time, I slid it over my face and the world became a dark place speckled with pinprick holes. “Okay.”

The door opened and closed and Jack was right there. I felt him wrap his arms around me and just hold me. All warm and strong and gentle, and he was right there in front of me. He hugged me in that gentle way, but then he said, “Baby. You sound terrible. When was the last time that you got a good meal? A night out?” I coughed heavily and weakly shook my head. “We’re leaving.”

“I-I-I—,” I hoarsely muttered. “I can’t.”

“I’ll make a deal. Get in something warm. It’s cold out.”

Then he was gone.

I went to my dresser and pulled out a tight sweater and a pair of tight leather pants. It would have to be good enough even though the loose, cable knit boat neck just about showed all of my chest and shoulders. Fine—I added a horribly cheap and clashing scarf that I wrapped around my neck.

I had no idea if Jack would want me blindfolded for this or not, so I fiddled with the sleep mask. It would be a toss up whether or not he wanted it. I was almost terrified. Who knew what it was that made him so sure that no one should see his face. Maybe I’d ask my pimp what he looked like sometime.

The phone rang and Tony muttered, “Hey, cupcake, your boyfriend wants you out back. He’s taking you out.”

“Sure,” I grumbled. “I’m ready.”

“He’s got a bike.”

A bike. A bike. My brain swam and I could only picture a baby blue tandem with a cute, white basket on the front and a little bell. “Okay.”

I staggered down the steps and looked blearily at Tony and his “boys”. All of them were the stereotypical greasy men who thought that their lanky hair, cheap jewelry and ripped clothes were the height of street fashion. Tony looked at me with powder on his nose and unfocused eyes. “Hey, there’s my cupcake. You got a real fan there. He’s paid for the whole night, so you be nice to him.”

I nodded uncertainly. “Tony—what’s he like?”

“Who?” he croaked out, his head bobbing loosely. “That new fucker?”

“Jack,” I hissed.

“Big guy. Besides... what the fuck do you care? You get paid. I get paid. No problem.” He patted my cheek harshly. “So don’t do nothing to upset him, okay, cupcake?”

I nodded again and followed his wide gesture to the back door. Staggering, I stepped out into the filthy alley. There was a low growl and I stumbled to turn around and see a low-slung black motorcycle pull up and rev the engines. I saw the brightly colored leather coat over thick canvas cargo pants and tucked into the heaviest, thickest steel-toed boots I had ever scene. A slick motorcycle helmet reflected my own face as he nodded at me.

I staggered up and smiled. Even if this wasn’t Jack, there was no sense alienating a possible customer. “Hey, cutie,” I whispered hoarsely. “You going my way?”

I never felt so relieved as when I heard Jack’s voice crackle out, “Hope this works for you.” He reached behind himself and pulled out a second helmet. “As great as you look, we’re rolling out of here.”

I pulled on the helmet. It smelled clean and crisp and like new leather. “Hey. Thanks.”

“Climb on. We’re leaving.”

I climbed on and wrapped my arms around him. The motorcycle leapt up and just about threw me off as it roared down the streets. We whipped around corners and through the turns effortlessly. At a stoplight, I saw him tap the side of his helmet and then two small lights turned on. I felt his chest vibrate, heard muffled speaking, and then saw him tap his helmet again and the lights turned off.

I shouted, “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

He shouted back, “Don’t worry about it, baby. It’s fine.”

The light changed and we roared off again. More turns and lights flashed past. It felt almost leisurely. All I had to worry about was not falling off. Aside from that, I could look in the windows of the stores and watch people go past. My fingers locked into the leather, my arms locked around his waist, and we were flashing past the downtown blocks that I hadn’t really seen in months.

My head was swimming before with the fever or whatever and it was worse with the potent cocktail of cold medicines I had taken. Now I was crammed in a motorcycle helmet and rushing through the city at a breakneck pace. Jack’s body was so hot and so effortlessly strong that even the motorcycle couldn’t toss him around and so he was a steady, motionless anchor no matter how fast he took the turns.

It all sparkled like magic. The windows were all lit up and decorated for the fall season with scarlet and gold and orange. A shoe store had a display of shoes perched on branches. A dress store had mannequins with sweaters and matching pashminas and heavy leather boots surrounded by piles of fake, silk leaves and pumpkins. Still another store had children’s clothes for school and boughs of spiderwebs arching over them. A department store showed clothes and shoes alternating with backpacks and costumes along with spiders and ghosts and jack-o-lanterns around a television.

I was entranced. I had barely gone out three blocks from that apartment building since I had gotten there. Even this middle class, urban center was so far beyond my reach. I could no more afford what was in those stores than I could have reached the moon. It was like watching a magical city—a fairy tale kingdom—flash by.

Finally, we managed to pull into a parking lot behind a tall building. He must have prepared to come here because he only pulled a small, flat plastic card and waved it at a small reader at a tall gate. The fenced parking lot was lit—well lit, as parking lots went—but totally nondescript. He slid into a reserved parking space in an underground parking deck and killed the engine. My ears rang in the sudden cement enclosed silence and I climbed off with shaking legs. Jack unfastened one of the leather bags on the back and he pulled out a cloth that he carefully wrapped the bike up and then used clips or buckles to keep it wrapped up.

Again he waved the card at the anonymous glass parking deck door. I blearily—dreamily—looked at the glass door with its common logo. A hotel? A store? An apartment? Whatever it was, I couldn’t recall what it meant. And Jack was going too fast for me to even really think about as he led me in and then to an anonymous elevator, where he waved his key and it simply started up to the nineteenth floor.

“W-w-where are we going?” I whispered. He simply stood there, watching the numbers above the door go slowly up and the bell ring with each floor. Belatedly, I realized that I still had on the helmet and pulled it off. “Where are we going?”

“To a room.” He grunted as another bell rang. “Just be silent while I get us there. I’ll... explain then.”

I shuddered wildly. “Please don’t hurt me.”

The motorcycle helmet jerked towards me. A strong arm wrapped around me. “Baby. Trust me just a little bit.” 

I nodded slowly—I had no choice, really—and curled up under his arm. Inexplicably, his leather jacket—all blue and white and with numbers on the back like a racing jacket or sports jacket—was almost cold against my cheek. No, I had no choice but to trust him. Anything that happened to me at this point was inevitable. Tony could go find another girl to whore for him and the police would never take an assault claim from a prostitute seriously. Even a murdered prostitute would barely make the police blotter.

When the doors opened, it was to an anonymous hallway. A carpet of anonymous blue with thin black waves ran down the hallway in both directions. A woman in a jumpsuit was walking down the hallway with a clipboard and a headset. She looked up and seemed shocked, but only turned and pulled out another keycard to go into a room. The door closed in the dead silent hallway and locked again.

“Come on,” Jack growled. “Our room is this way.”

At room 1924, he took out his keycard and waved it in front of the heavy door. All I saw was the small brass plate with the room number, a plastic “No Smoking” sign, and a “Do Not Disturb” placard on the doorknob.

I stared stupidly at the room. It looked like a normal hotel room—a pair of queen beds with a blocky night stand between them and a pair of wall sconces over it, a desk with a slim computer, a television, a mini-fridge and a microwave in a small cabinet with a rather large coffee maker on top. An open door showed a spotless bathroom with a dark outfit hanging on a hook on the wall. The large window at the back of the room were covered with both layers of drapes and effectively hiding any hint of sky and the outside.

I stepped forward and studied the beds. One was made up just like in every hotel with the duvet and the hotel branded whatever it was across the foot of the bed with no pillows on it. I was expecting the other bed to be messy, but instead it was fully made with the corners crisp and the pillows stacked precisely like sandbags on a beach. The duvet was folded in thirds and settled with precision across the foot of the second bed.

I wobbled as the door clicked shut behind me and the heavy deadbolt slide shut. Slowly, I turned to face him. “J-j-j—.”

He raised a gloved finger to where I thought his mouth would be. I nodded slowly and went to sit down on the branded fabric on the far bed. It should be easier if I just agreed to whatever he wanted. I felt cold. I had never pegged Jack—my Jack, of all people—as a violent man. I never even picked up on any vibes, any abusive tendencies. I would have said that he would have been the last man to take even a hooker to a hotel room and do anything dangerous or... or violent.

Jack took a little device out and began waving it around the room. It beeped every so often and a red light kept blinking. Finally he had spun all the way around and had it pointed back towards me. At first I was worried—it kept not showing the green light—but then he nodded and put it away in one of what was apparently many pockets in his coat.

“Room’s clean,” he growled.

“O-o-okay.”

He looked at me slowly. “You don’t sound good.”

I nodded and wrapped my arms around my waist. My stomach was twisting and I felt some kind of nausea burning up my throat. “Just don’t hurt me.”

He stopped short, his hands slowly coming up. “Hold on. What?!”

I looked up at him in terror. “J-j-just don’t hurt me. I-I-I... I know th-that—.”

“Hold on. Sweetheart—what do you think this is?”

I looked up at him. “I’ll do what you want, Jack.” I laid back—flopped back—on the bed. “Whatever you want.”

Jack seemed to nod and then went to switch off the lights—even the bathroom lights. The room seemed abnormally dark and suddenly even all of my deadened senses went into overdrive. I heard him stomp around, his heavy boots making even this commercially thick and carpeted floor vibrate. I heard the leather creak and then the heavy zipper slide down.

I knew that I was headed for rape. I should have never agreed. I should have taken the beating from Tony and his boys. At least they had an interest in leaving me alive. Something inside died because I had never seen this type of behavior coming from Jack. I closed my eyes and prayed.

Nothing.

I sighed and tried not to think. Jack stood right next to me. He was going to do something horrible. When his hand hit my arm, I let out a little shriek.

“Baby. Just climb up on the bed. Can you do that?”

Christ, he was doing that deep, low voice like in my room. The voice that made things seem like things were going to be okay. Little tears went down my cheeks and I let out one of those embarrassing hiccups and loud sniffles. Any moment, I’d be in those hot, ugly tears.

“Baby—just listen to me.” I nodded and listened. “You’re tearing me up like that. Can you just climb on the bed?”

I shivered and climbed blindly up on the bed. Instinctively, I dug into the duvet and sheets. It felt like a comfort to pull them down. Right up until he grabbed my ankle. I let out another little cry and flattened down.

“You can’t get into bed with your shoes.”

Oh, right. My shoes. Every pair I owned now—all three of them—were high heeled things with such tiny little sharp heels that they’d surely rip the sheets, if not the mattress. I felt him take them off and heard the thumps—one then two—of them hitting the floor. I was expecting my clothes to be next, but instead, he pulled up the duvet and the sheets over me. Unexpectedly, I let out one of those hacking, harsh coughs and huddled into a ball. That was apparently enough to make him let out a little hum and then back away.

Jack growled softly, “Baby. You need help.” I nodded and coughed again. “Okay. We got this. Can you just stay put in here?”

“Yeah,” I whispered.

My heart went to my throat. I didn’t want to hope. But I wanted my Jack back and this sounded like him. Hell, it felt like him when he put a hand to my forehead. “You’re burning up with fever.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, hell.” He let out a grunt. “Okay.” His voice went firm and took on a barking command. “You stay here, got that? I’m going to go down the hallway and I’m going to be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

“W-w-what?!”

I heard the sheets being pulled off the other bed with a ferocious sound, but then they floated over me and he pulled some pillows over. His huge gloved hand—why was he still gloved?!—went under my head and then he pushed the pillow under my head.

“Stay here. Don’t touch the computer and don’t use the phone and don’t leave the bed. I’ll be back.”

“O-o-okay, Jack.” My throat was killing me but I rasped out, “I’ll do whatever you want.”

He sighed heavily. “Well, at least I did a sweep. Just... Just let’s keep quiet, huh?”

“Okay.”

“And I’m going to get help. Back in two shakes.”

There were more rumbles around and I saw the door open and then close. Whatever it was he was going to do, he had the keycard. I was stuck in a hotel room where I had no idea what was going on. I didn’t even really know where I was beyond room 1924.

I couldn’t bring myself to care, either. My Jack was back. My Jack. My Jack. I practically was chanting that in my head. My Jack was going to take care of me. My Jack was gentle and... and kind. He was probably going to be bringing me some tea and some aspirin. My Jack... was going to take care of me. I felt that ball of fear just evaporate and leave me with choking tears of relief because.... because this was My Jack and My Jack would never, ever, ever do anything to hurt me.

Time passed.

There was a short tap on the door and then it opened. I blinked anxiously in the sudden cold light. There was my Jack—still in the jacket and the motorcycle helmet, strolling in with a paper bag in one hand and the keycard in the other. “Come on in. She’s in here.”

I blinked dizzily again. My stomach twisted and I almost heaved. “Who’s there?”

I had no explanation for what happened next. A glowing angel stepped in behind him—complete with wings and a halo—and she smiled down at me. I kept staring at her and for a moment, I thrashed. I wanted to stay with Jack—not go to some heaven that wouldn’t want sinful me. I looked around the shadowy room and for another wretched moment, I couldn’t find him. Finally, I saw a reflective material—the dark visor on Jack’s helmet—and I went still and if I thought about an angel of life and a biker of... darkness, then I don’t remember except as a bit of a dream.

The angel spoke first. “I am with Overwatch and I’m here to help.”

My eyes felt like sandpaper marbles as I looked back at her. “What?”

She smiled and pulled out some kind of medical scanner. “I am with Overwatch and I’m here to help.”

I reached towards Jack, and he finally stepped forward. “Hold on, Baby.”

“Fever of 102.9.” She tapped something on her wrist and picked up my hand. A blue dot blinked on her forearm. “Please put your fingertip on the dot.” I did. “Oxygen levels are depressed, but holding steady. Pulse is elevated.” She tapped some more buttons and nodded. “I’ve signaled—.”

A knock sounded on the door. Immediately, Jack slid open the closet door and pulled out the most enormous weapon I had ever seen. He ducked behind the door and peeked out. Finally, he nodded and the room flooded with light briefly again. Jack took something and came back with a large, blue case as the door closed.

“Here,” he grunted as he came back into the glow of the angel.

She took the case and popped it open efficiently before setting it on the bed next to me. She took out all kinds of things—a heavy stethoscope, a syringe, and those heavy little flashlights to look in my ears and up my nose. With quiet, smiling efficiency, she plucked up little dot sensors and some tiny stickers and placed them along the bare skin above my sweater and I heard a series of beeps and boops. I couldn’t think for a moment as she drew some blood and began her thorough examination.

The angel gave me a smile and a nod before she pulled out a bottle and rubbed something that reeked of alcohol into her skin. “Well, I suppose that you’ll pull through.” I whimpered in my feverish state. She picked out a second syringe and a book sized package. “I’ll give you some antibiotics and then a medpack so that you’ll feel better.”

I stared at the glowing blue box with its iconic red cross. It seemed like the golden angel was holding a pixelated moon. “M-m-medpack?”

She gave a winning smile and nodded. “I apologize. I forget that not everyone uses the same abbreviations and terms I do. This is an Omnicorp Medical Therapy pack—RX-S-9000. It uses a combination of nanites and... and—you don’t look like you’re interested in all of the details, but I’ll leave a pamphlet behind if you want.” She set the box in my hands. “You can hold it for a minute while I prepare the antibiotics.”

I stared at it. “Is... this a... XL?”

She laughed. “No. This is a small. I don’t think that you need a full large or XL. Those are pretty hard on the system but they work well.” She pulled up my sleeve and wiped my skin with an alcohol pad. “Now, you aren’t too badly physically damaged—.”

Jack snorted, but said nothing. His voice echoed strangely under the helmet and in the silent hotel room. Instead, he crossed his arms and tensed in a way that suggested he was going to happily kiss me on the forehead and go out to start something. That he would go into the worst bar in town simply in the hopes that someone would start a fight.

The doctor-angel looked over at him and smiled. “Jack. She’s going to be fine.” He nodded shortly, his hands still in fists. “And... all things considered, she is in good shape.” She slid the needle into my arm. “No broken bones. No major organ damage aside from a touch of pneumonia in the lungs. No overly serious muscle sprains or joint damage.” There was a chill right there under my skin. “Like I said, all things considered, good shape.”

The doctor pulled out the needle and gave me a bandaid with an improbable cartoon cat on it before she pulled my sleeve back down. “There. You’ll be tired—especially after the medpack gets done with you—but tomorrow you’ll wake up and hopefully be on track to a recovery.”

The med pack was depressingly anticlimactic. She set the box on my belly and set my hands on the outside and then tapped some buttons on the side and then the red cross. It lit up wildly and then it began to hypnotically... empty like a cup being drunk by a ghost. My palms tingled and I couldn’t help but jerk at the sensation. Then it emptied and the pinpricks and tingles began to spread up my arms and around me. I whined as I remembered the pack he had used in my apartment, but this was far... far less intense.

“Wha—? What is happening?” I whined.

Jack nodded slowly and walked up to the other side of the bed. “Doc—what’s going on?”

The doctor frowned. “It will be fine.” She took the empty box and began picking up all of the bits and pieces to put them back into her case. She tapped something in the case. “As you can hear, heart and lungs are working just fine. Oxygen levels are going to be rising in the next two hours and pulse is stable.” She held up a hand. “And, yes, I’m going to be doing regular monitoring tonight to be sure.”

Jack only grunted again, which made the doctor laugh. “We will keep monitoring.” With a sharp snap, she closed up her case. “But we have agents returning—.”

“Fine,” he growled. “Dismissed.”

She only laughed and shook her head. “I guess that you will take care of her.” Jack nodded shortly. “Call me if anything changes.”

With that, she turned and glided out, closing the door behind her. Jack grunted again and his heavy gloved hand patting my shoulder. “Sleep. You need sleep.”

I moaned softly. All I wanted was sleep. Everything in me cried out for rest. “Jack... what’s going on?”

“Don’t worry about it, baby. Just rest.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve got a... a few things to do.” I heard more than saw him squirm. “And I’ve got a bed over there.” There was a long pause and he cursed, “Shit. That sounds bad.”

I let out a dizzy laugh. “Not really.”

“Just sleep. I got a bag meal if you need to eat, but rest.”

That made my ears prick and my stomach growled. “A meal? Food?”

He patted my skin. “It’s not much, but it’s edible.”

I tried to sit up. “A-a-and... I can... have some?”

Without a pause, he sat the bag down on the bed next to me. I sat up and pounced on it, digging out the plastic wrapped cold sandwich, the bag of chips, and the cold bottle of whatever it was. With trembling fingers, I began to rip the plastic and blindly I shoved it into my mouth.

It was... huge. I tasted the wheat bread, the ham and cheese and mayo and mustard. As the first meal after being sick, it was both delicious and absolutely nauseating. The bread scraped the back of my throat and seemed to stick there. I gasped in a shaky breath and the lump shifted, lodging to one side. I cleared my throat, tried to get it to move, but it turned into a heavy cough.

“Hey... don’t choke,” Jack laughed. His hands fumbled in the sheets until he found the bottle and I heard it crackle as he opened it. Then I grabbed it and swallowed the cold water. “You’re going to choke if you’re not careful.”

I finally got it out of my throat and swallowed. “Th-th-thanks.”

“Yeah.” There was a long pause in silence that made me stop for a moment. “I’m going to change.”

“Ch-change? Are you like the wolfman or something?” I couldn’t think of something more intelligent to say. “Like... a...?”

He laughed and I heard him moving around. There was a door—maybe the closet—or a drawer opening. There were a few snapping sounds and a clatter and then another clatter and the hiss of straps or something. I stared in the direction of the sounds, munching the sandwich. Then I heard a growing hum and saw an orange oval of light appear.

Jack’s voice reverberated strangely as he muttered, “Testing. Testing....” In the dim light, I heard him hit something and then the line jerked. “There we go. Systems are online. Athena—log me in.”

I whispered, “Athena?”

He nodded slowly. “Baby, eat the sandwich. It’s water and I didn’t know what chips you wanted, so you got corn chips.” Something beeped. “If you want something hot, I can get you coffee.”

I shook my head. “I’m okay.”

Unfortunately, at that moment, I coughed again and he laughed, “My ma used to say not to take big bites or you’ll choke.”

I took a small bite and tried to tell my stomach that it was going to stay there. “Okay. I’m....”

“Don’t worry. Just eat and rest.”

I finished the cold meal. “I need to....”

The bathroom light flicked on and I saw the leather and steel form of Jack. I blinked in the sudden light and my eyes went automatically to his short, spiky white hair. Then I looked and saw the strange mask he now wore. The light was right there where his eyes should be and I couldn’t make out anything but the top of his head over the mask.

“Umm... Jack?” I whispered uncomfortably. He nodded silently. “Umm... okay. You have like a serious mask fetish or something, but I need to—.”

“Make yourself comfortable,” he growled. “Bathroom’s through there. Don’t mess with the computer and you are here for the night.”

I laughed awkwardly. “B-b-but I have to get back. My pimp—.” His hand waved in a cutting motion. “I mean—you... you know that—.” I felt shivers go down my spine. “What’s going on here?”

He nodded at me again. “Baby. Just stay here. Sleep. Take a shower if you want.” He pointed. “You can’t order any movies or anything, but you can watch television.”

“What about you?”

He pointed towards the door. “I’m... going to be... busy. But I want you to stay here.”

“What? Why?”

He growled low in his throat. “Just stay here.”

I looked up at him and felt a shiver go down my spine again. “O-o-o-okay.” I sucked in a hasty breath as he took what appeared to be a large rifle of some kind from the closet. So that’s what I’d seen. “I’ll... be a good girl.”

He cocked his head and looked at me curiously. “Baby. It’s... it’s me—Jack. Just take a nap. I’m... working late.” He came up to me and put a heavy hand on my shoulder. “You’re safe. I’ve got men in the corridor all night.”

I got to my shaky feet and staggered to the bathroom. He was stock still and absolutely calm. It was a relief to be in a real bathroom, with clean white towels, surrounded by thick walls and with a tub. It felt like a hotel—even a vacation hotel, despite the surreal circumstances. There was even hot water and lots of it.

“Baby. Sophia. You okay?”

The door was open, spilling light into the bedroom. He could probably see me, so why was he worried about what I was doing? I stepped out again. My body trembled and I stared at the two beds and then the leather clad man. “Can I...?”

He pointed to the second bed. “Get some sleep, baby. Even I can tell you’re done in.”

I nodded and crept past him. The bed was still there. The pillow was still there. The paper bag and wrappers and water bottle were still there. I tossed the trash in the tiny hotel trashcan. “Jack. Tony—my pimp—he knows people. He’s going to be crazy if I don’t come back. I-I-I don’t know what... what you think you can do, but... Tony—he’s got connections. N-n-not even the police go... there....”

Jack snorted a laugh. “Baby—don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. Just get some sleep.”

I climbed into the bed and pulled the sheets up. “You coming to bed, Jack?”

“I’m working late,” he muttered. Carefully, he put a rectangle of plastic on the top of the coffee maker. “Just in case—but don’t leave the room.”

“Don’t leave. Got it.”

He let out a little laugh at my dry and disbelieving tone. “And don’t worry about Tony.”

I croaked back, “Don’t get hurt, Jack.”

He pulled open the heavy hotel door and swung the rifle up to his chest. He looked over his shoulder and muttered, “Yes, ma’am.”


	7. Chapter 7

At some unholy hour of the night, the door opened and I cracked my eyelids to see Jack limp in. His spiky hair was flat again his scalp and he held his rifle low as he slunk to closet to put the rifle aside and close the door again. About that point, the outside door closed, leaving me blinded again except for the light at his eyes.

I heard his take off his coat and some rustling as he hung it up. Then he took off his heavy boots with some thumps. I saw him yank at the bed—the orange light bouncing and turning. The mattress sighed and the sheets shifted.

“Mmm... Jack—you’re home,” I whispered.

There was a startled gasp and then a wry chuckle. “Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s okay.” He laid down and I could only imagine his body as he got settled in the sheets. “Work go well?”

I thought for a moment that it was too far—too soon—but he laughed and the mask turned towards me. “Yeah, baby. Work went... well.”

There was a long pause as we both twisted and turned in our sheets on our bed. Finally, I ventured to ask, “Jack?”

“Yeah.”

“Where do you call home?”

“I grew up in Indiana.”

“What’s in Indiana?”

“Corn. Lots of corn. Miles and miles and miles.” He sighed. “Ma still lives on the farm.” He chuckled again. “She has a small contract with a company to supply feed corn for cattle and somehow still gets up to tend the goats and rabbits.” There was a pause. “She adopted two kids after me. After I turned 18. Their parents were no good and they needed a home, so Ma figured she could take them in.”

“What are their names?”

“Joe Bob—Joseph Robert—and Michael Alan. Joe Bob is an Omnic repairman and takes care of the farm droids. Mikey is an ag major and he has a wife and three kids that live there.”

“Sounds nice,” I whispered.

“You should see the fields—miles and miles of tall green that goes over your head. It’s like you’re in the middle of an ocean. But instead of water, it’s all corn and it all smells sweet instead of salty.” I couldn’t help but yawn. “If you fly over them, then there are waves like an ocean of green.”

There was another awkward pause and then he continued. “Baby. Where are your people?”

“My people? My family?” I shrugged. “I... guess I don’t really know. I was... in foster care. My last foster family said that they had a folder of information but... I... I was in a bad place and already rebelling and shit. I thought I was hot stuff and that I knew everything and I ran away.” I tried to shrug casually. “I thought... th-th-thought that I had... a place to go and a good job. Thought I was adult enough for anything.”

He grunted. “You know, I don’t know much at all about you.”

I paused. “I guess not.”

“So... baby—tell me about yourself.”

I thought about it for a moment. “I... I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay. I thought... hell, I thought that.... Never mind.” He rolled in the sheets. “It’s....”

“It’s what?”

“Just get some sleep, baby.” He let out a soft laugh, “I... guess I’m... moving too fast.”


	8. Chapter 8

I don’t know how long I slept before Jack came in but I do remember falling back asleep. I remembered rolling over and burrowing into the pillow and the sheets. I remembered hearing a soft snore start up like the purr of a well tuned car. For some reason, I remembered being soothed by it and dropping into a deep sleep.

The next thing, I saw Tony at the end of the bed. I saw Jack’s dead body on the floor. I saw blood and fire. I shot up and let out a panicked cry as I fought with the sheets.

Jack was to his feet immediately and I heard the hum of his weapon. That made me scream again and then I went silent. 

“Baby—what’s wrong?!” he demanded.

I took in a shaky breath. I had been panting heavily and the sudden slow breathing made my head pound and my heartbeat thud in my ears. “J-j-jack?!”

“Baby.” Slowly, I heard him put everything aside again. He had taken off the mask and so I didn’t have even that small orange light to focus on. “What happened?”

“I had a nightmare,” I whispered.

“Hell of a nightmare,” he grunted and the mattress sighed as he laid down again. He waited a moment and then asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“J-j-jack.... Can I sleep with you?” That made him hiss. I stopped for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. Finally I said, “No. Don’t worry about it.”

There was another long pause and he said, “I’d... like that.”

I crawled over to the bed and fumbled to find the warm hollow beside him. His arm instinctively cradled me, putting my head on his shoulder. “Baby. Just relax. Old Jack is right here with you.”

I couldn’t help but purr in the sudden, surrounding warmth of muscles and cotton. “Mmm... your jacket—.”

“It’s in the closet,” he sighed. “You cold?”

I smiled and buried my nose into his chest. His chest was massively muscled—for some reason, I hadn’t expected that—and then he wore a tight cotton knit shirt. If I knew anything, it was that thin shirt was living on borrowed time. He could flex and the thing would probably split theatrically. He even smelled good—even sweaty and tired he smelled good—and was intoxicating.

“I’m just glad you’re back,” I whispered.

There was a long, long pause before he softly asked, “You were... worried about me?”

I pushed myself up with a heavy hand on his chest. He let out a huff of air and I snapped, “Of course I was worried about you!”

He sat up and enveloped me in a bear hug. “Baby—I’m right here.”

I struggled to wrap my arms around him. “I was terrified for you. I... I was sure that you’d... get hurt or end up in jail or... fuck—even dead.” I felt him chuckle. “Wait.... the woman—.”

He sighed and I felt him nod. “I was... wondering if you’d catch that.”

“She said she was... from Overwatch?” He nodded slowly. “Hell—I don’t.... What have you drug me into, Jack?”

He hissed slightly. “You’re a smart cookie, Sophia—.”

“Janet.”

“What?!”

“M-m-my... real name is ‘Janet’.” I puffed out a breath. “I made up ‘Sophia’. It.... I thought that it... sounded... sexy.”

“Janet. I like that.” I could hear his smile. “You know—I knew a Janet in grade school. She was... well, she was a bookworm. Couldn’t get enough of reading and stuff. She wore the cutest glasses that were pink rimmed with these little gold sparkles. Read everything—.”

“Jack!”

“Yeah... okay. You’re smart. You know that... Tony and his guys—they’re small potatoes, right?” He pulled me until I was straddling his hips as he laid back down. “Janet. They’re small potatoes.

“The thing is—you... haven’t been important. Tony and his gang haven’t ever been on Overwatch’s radar.” His hands went to my bent legs. “But... you know.... you have a really... really big problem.” I grunted sourly. “One of your... regular clients is... a very important target.” I knew that he didn’t want to say too much, to let me know too much, and if Overwatch was involved—it could get ugly quick. “We....”

“You’re with Overwatch.”

“How long have you been seeing Gabriel Reyes?”

I couldn’t think for a moment. “I mean... I see lots of men and women.”

“You’ll know this guy. He’s a big, mean guy. Likes trench coats. Likes Havana cigars and he... he likes... chocolate. Soccer.” He squirmed under me and whispered, “Big guns—he likes big guns. And he... is very rough.”

“Ahh... Him.”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“And... he’s... important?”

There was yet another of the long silences but then he pulled my hands down so that I was all but laying on top of him. “Baby. Gabe was the target. We....”

“You planted something in my room?”

“Well, not really. He would have found it and then taken it out on you.” His arms really were that massive—huge arms like a wrestler’s or a superhero’s—as they wrapped around me. “And I couldn’t take that chance.”

I brushed a kiss to his stubbly cheek. “I should have known.”

“I never wanted to risk you. So, I... I got you out.”

“You what?!”

“I paid for a whole night. I got you out. And then, I went back with Overwatch and we cleaned that whole building out.”

I felt that scratchy feeling in my throat, that feeling that I was about to do those ugly tears again. “Jack... what did you do?”

He coughed heavily. “We... uh... set up a sting. Your room was a perfect base.”

“What about Tony?”

“We... persuaded him to let us wait for him in your room.”

I nodded slowly, my face naturally tucking into his neck. “Did you get him?”

“Gabe?” He let out a heavy sigh. “Babe—all I can tell you is... we were close.” His hand went up my shoulder to brush my hair. “Real damn close.”

“So... he got out of it somehow.” I shook my head. “Jack—he’s huge. He could have killed you!”

“You were worried about me,” he whispered.

“He... he got to come and go because he nearly killed all of Tony’s boys. So, he got whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted.” Tears filled my eyes. “He... hurt... all of us and Tony didn’t even... he didn’t even stop to protect us. Tony didn’t care.”

His gentle squeeze was a world of comfort. “Baby, you are.... I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

That did it. I began that choking and heavy crying that made me look like an ugly frog. “Tony didn’t care that he hurt us. That he about choked us. Damn near killed us. H-h-h-he could have killed us and... nobody cared.”

“I care,” he whispered. “I care about you.”

“Y-y-you... got me out.” He nodded slowly. But I couldn’t resist gaping in the darkness. “What about Ming? What about Tonya? And Lateisha?”

“We got all of the women who were there out.”

I nodded and he stroked my hair, murmuring softly. Those big, gulping sobs jerked me over him. “All of us. We... were trapped. Y-y-y-you don’t get it. We were a-a-a-all... stuck there.”

“I know, baby.”

“And we.. never g-g-g-got enough money to get out.”

“I know, baby.”

“I am just... God—.”

“Janet—listen for a moment.” I nodded and gripped his shoulders tightly. “You did great. You didn’t let him know. You didn’t give us away. You did just what I... needed.” I nodded but I couldn’t stop crying. “And... you’re safe now.”

“But... I don’t have any... money.” I whimpered softly. “I have like.... $75 in my account. That’s not even enough for more than a few... meals. I... I don’t know anything. I dropped out of school.”

“Soph—Janet... just listen, okay?” He took my hand and put it up to his cheek. “Baby—it’s me. It’s Jack.” He paused until I nodded. “And... I’m not going to let you down. You will be fine.”

“Where will I go, Jack?”

“With me.”

That smooth, drawling certainty scared me out of my panicky sobbing. “With... you?”

“With me.”

He laughed softly. “I’m not a tough roommate. I am gone most of the time. I don’t make messes and I can clean up after myself.”

I let out an ugly sniffle that sounded like a tractor starting up. “I don’t... don’t have... like....”

“You are just fine,” he whispered, brushing my hair away. “You just... had... bad luck.”

“B-b-b-bad luck?” I cocked my head. Nobody had ever said it like that. “You th-think it’s... just bad luck?” I shuddered and shook my head wildly. “I should have known better.”

“Baby... you... did the best you could. You did everything you could—doing the best you could to survive.” His fingers threaded down my cheek to wipe the heavy tears from my eyes. “Forgive... yourself. You didn’t know what would happen.” On the other side of my face, he trailed up and brushed away my tears. “It was bad luck.”

Then it happened.


	9. Chapter 9

Jack tugged lightly on my legs, got me right over his hips. With feather light touches, he pulled off that sweater and tossed it carelessly to one side. His hands went came to my breasts, squeezing the lacy bra that pushed my breasts up to heaven and made it look like I had a porn star figure. Then, his fingers trace the stiff under wires.

“Baby,” he purred. “there is more steel here than in a Bastion. Don’t tell me that these are comfortable?”

I laughed softly and shook my head in the darkness. “Nope. It’s... there for looks, not for comfort.”

He let out a mild, “Well, hell—how do I get you out of it then?”

I let out a soft sound, and reached up. “It fastens in front.”

He took a hold of the padded cups and pulled them away before that, too, was tossed aside. I pushed up and off of him so that I could peel off the leather pants. Thankfully, I knew where those went—right by the bed—when I climbed between the sheets. For some reason, I thought that I might need to know. But then Jack pulled off his t-shirt and tumbled out of bed long enough that I heard a zipper crackle and then a heavy thump of pants hitting the floor.

The cotton sheets flew up and we were suddenly skin to skin. Lord, I figured he was a tall man—I knew that from the vague glimpses of him and from riding next to him. But he was... so much. So much muscle. So much strength.

His hands were huge and rough—immense—as he brushed my skin. “Baby. Is... this even safe?”

I burbled softly, “I....”

“Hold on.”

He rolled and scrambled around until he had something in his hand. It beeped and a tiny blue light came on. “Mercy—can you come by 1924?” I heard Mercy’s pristine voice for a moment. “I need some help with birth—.”

I let out a wail and grabbed for the thing. “No! No. No. No—we don’t—.”

There was a laugh—a hysterical, peal of humor—over the device and my Jack tossed the thing between his hands. I lunged clumsily and missed, almost face planting into a pillow. Jack wrestled with me like a playful bear. He could toss me around like a toy and whatever it was got lost as he shoved a pillow at me. I tugged at the pillow, got it away from him and then smacked him with it.

“Now you’re in trouble!” he crowed. Another swish and he had his weapon. I felt the soft whomp as it hit my shoulder. “I’ll get you, my pretty—.”

I laughed and tumbled backwards. Hell, I hadn’t this much fun on a bed in years. I picked up my pillow to throw it at him. Unfortunately, I didn’t have whatever preternatural sense of the situation—his ability to find me and hit my leg with his pillow was uncanny—and so I had to just whomp around and hope that I hit something.

He tossed his pillow at my face and I let out a squeal. Immediately, he lunged and the mattress rolled as he grabbed me in a huge hug. The shifting of the mattress threw me off balance and I fell backwards with him holding me close. His laughter peppered against my skin along with soft little kisses. “Jack, I—!”

There was a knock at the door.

The little device—whatever it was—beeped almost immediately and I could faintly see a blinking green light. We both reached for it, fumbling in the sheets and dodging the pillows. Of course, Jack was there first, plucking it up and waving it over his head like a child playing man in the middle.

He blew a raspberry at me. Nobody had done that since grade school. I snorted and couldn’t help but laugh as he held it over his head and the little dot light drew a sloppy oval in the darkness. I gave him a throaty growl that echoed over my scratchy throat and tackled the space just below the LED trail and hoped that I got him.

I collided and it felt like I hit a brick wall. My breath whooshed out and only my inertia made my arms wrap around him. My face collided and his abs were enough to wash a nation’s laundry. He just about fell over and I could feel his belly rolling with laughter.

He flipped or opened it or whatever and I heard a very amused female voice say, “I am here to render medical assistance.”

Jack let out a cackling laugh and called out, “Hold on. I’ll be at the door in a moment.” I squealed again and dove beneath the covers. He stood up and I guess he pulled on some clothes—I hope he pulled on some clothes—and went to the door.

“Mercy—thank you.”

“Well, I am certainly glad that you’re finally stepping out.” Lord—she was laughing at me. Or us—she might be laughing at the two of us. I pulled the covers over my head and groaned. “Here. I took a guess on what you meant.”

“That’s fine.” He was laughing still as he added, “And... thanks.”

“Sure thing. I’ll see you both in the morning.”

There was a long pause and I heard the door quietly click closed. Then there was a long pause and the sound of a zipper rattling again. Another thump and then the mattress rolled under his heavy weight. “Where is my little playmate? Are you under here, baby?”

I stuck my head out—and, yes, it was still as dark as pitch—and reached for him. I got a rough knee and relished the warm, roughened skin. He knew where I was and whipped the sheet back. His hands were busy, too, tracing over me like a rambunctious child in a park.

There was lightning in his fingertips and I let out a breathless whimper. For all that his fingers shifted between soft drumming and little brushing strokes, he went in slow circles and cautious forays further out. It seemed like a heady fantasy—a cautious exploring of my body—but I dismissed it. There were guys who were shy, who were uncertain—but then he let out a heady growl, “Baby, you are so hot.” There was a fine shiver in his body and he added, “You’re okay with this, right?” I nodded. “You’re really okay, right? I’ll... I’ll stop if you want.”

“I’m... okay,” I whispered.

I... wasn’t.

I felt that strange deadening. The thing is... I had done this for lots of guys. I had seen every variation of man—cuddly and threatening and insecure and dickhead—and I had illusions any more. I had no beliefs. Everything drained out and it left me a cold shell that could let people do whatever they wanted to my body. I had nothing in me as I silently laid down and felt his rough heat between my thighs. I blankly head a plastic and metallic crinkle and rip and then the brush of cool moisture as he rolled down the condom.

Then his hand went to my side and I swallowed down a gasp in my throat. His hands were so hot and rough it was like a caress from a desert. “Baby—are... you okay?”

I let out a whine. I felt sure that this is where he lost patience. “I....”

“Aww, shucks... I really am a dick.” He pulled back and let out a chuckle. “You’ve been sick and I am really a dick for treating you like this.”

I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Look—I’m so sorry.”

Hell, then he did the last thing that I ever expected. He simply stopped and laid down beside me. “Honey. Baby.” Strong arms wrapped around me. “I was being a dick. I shouldn’t be pushing you like this.” He kissed me gently on my shoulder. “I am so sorry, Baby.”

Then, I cracked. Literally I could picture every part of me shattering like a dropped teacup. That hardened shell that I had so carefully built up simply turned to dust as he just held me. Strong arms wrapped around me and he rocked back and forth. He waited as I panted and kept forcing my tears down my scratchy throat.

Finally, I felt him grow still. I kept rocking back and forth from fearful anticipation that he’d be mad and pure exhaustion. I couldn’t keep this up any more. I needed to get out of the prostitution racket and get a real job. Even an entry-level job scrubbing floors would be an improvement. Anything else.

“You have to let it out,” he murmured. “You can let it out.”

“I... I....”

He gently rolled me over to face him. “I’m right here. I’m right here.”

“I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Baby—it’s okay.” He puffed out a warm breath. “I know I was a dick.”

“No—it’s not that. Just... It’s just that—.”

“Is it... me?” I gasped in a shocked breath. “I know I’m a big guy—but you know I’d never hurt you, right, Baby?”

“N-n-n-no. Of course not.”

“Is it that... you’re tired?”

I shuddered and did a confused sort of shake of my head that was half nodding in agreement and half shaking my head. “I’m really tired, but—it’s all of it. It’s... all the... the worry and stress and I-I-I can’t do it any more. I can’t just pretend... that I’m not scared and that I am not getting... really fucking hurt. I... I don’t wanna b-b-b-be a whore—!”

“Aww, hell, baby—we’re... not doing that, okay?” His rusty croon seemed as scratchy as my throat. “We’re... not gonna go back to that.”

“R-r-r-really?”

“You’re safe here, okay, Janet?” He waited in silence until I could give him a nod. “You’re really safe. We’re really not going to go back to that, okay?”

“Really?”

“Baby—you are safe here. I-I-I... am sorry for rushing things, but hell—I was thinking about my dick and not you.” He paused and sighed, “Is... is it okay for me to hold you? Or... do you want me to go to another bed? The other bed?”

And as broken as I was, I only nodded. He pulled me up to him and just tucked me in close. With an athletic wriggle, he had the sheet and blanket pulled up. I was enveloped in thick heat that drained me.

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you want?”

“I... what?!”

“What do you want? I mean... I’m good for a quick lay. But...?”

Jack bristled slightly. “No, baby. I don’t want just a quickie.” Again he sighed. “Baby, I want... you to relax. To feel safe.” He squeezed lightly. “As much as I can do—I can’t change the past, but... I can help you now.”

The dam burst and I sobbed all of my ugly frog tears into his shoulder. All the tears that I couldn’t shed, I did right there. All of the cries that I stifled and all of the pain came screaming out. I felt my body kick and jerk wildly and I couldn’t care.

Somehow Jack just took it all. He just held on to me, let me cry it out until all I could do was gasp breathlessly and shiver. Cold? I was somehow cold even though I was next to a furnace of a man. Then, he rolled and got me tissues from the bathroom and I felt him wipe my face with a rag.

Then, quite casually, he tossed them aside and crept back to where he had been at my side. Once more, he moved with deliberate slowness until I was in his arms again. He paused there until I could feel him listening to me. Finally, he moved again until one large hand thread through my hair and begin petting me.

When I fell asleep, I don’t know. I only remember waking up slightly when he rolled over. It was so soothing to hear his soft snore rumble. Then there was the sheer delightful feeling of real sheets that weren’t worn thin. And the sheer heaven that was a thick blanket and the feel of a guy simply giving me room on the bed and going back to sleep as if this was a simply normal romantic evening out.

Again I slept and again I woke up. Jack kicked once to get the blankets off, but then he sucked in a surprised breath and carefully plucked them up and tucked them back around me. Groggily, I whispered, “Baby.... what’s wrong?”

He chuckled. “That’s my line.” I was going to ask what he meant, but he added, “I need to get up for a while.”

“What? Why?” I pushed up to go get dressed. This was usually my chance to make a quick exit. “Wh—?”

“Nah, baby. Just get some sleep.” He strolled over to tug on the heavy curtains at the window and I got a golden flash of sunrise that made his shiny silver hair glow and gave me a thin stripe of light that went from his forehead to his waist and highlighted his nose. Literally, all I could process was his nose glowing in the light before the curtains were closed again. He was comfortably naked as he came and sat on the bed to get dressed again. He was a dim silhouette as he pulled on the thick, lumpy clothes and then the leather coat. He fumbled around a bit and then pulled on that weird orange lit mask. Finally, as I was staring at the orange light, he rumbled, “I’ll... I’m going to be gone for a few hours, but I’ll bring up some food when I get back.”

“Okay.” I reached out to stroke him and well loved leather brushed my fingertips. “But... where are you going?”

“Gotta check on some things. Make sure that everything is okay.” He paused and turned to look at me with that orange glared stare. “You’re... probably gonna be hungry, aren’t you?”

I muttered, “Could I get something to drink? Just some... some coffee or something?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. It’s about seven now, and with me out of your hair, you get some sleep and... there’s a coffeemaker. It’s horrible muck, but legally it’s coffee.”

“I guess?”

“Just... stay put, okay?” I snorted softly. I felt wrung out and whatever I had been injected with or whatever had made me feel better but not completely well. I barely remembered the hotel and getting up here, had no money to do anything, and if I remembered correctly—a huge “if”—I had not even Tony and his boys to run to. “Umm.... I can.... We’re not supposed to order room service, but.... Let me see if I can get you some bagels or something? After my meeting?”

“Okay.” I had nowhere to go, but at least I had a bed for a few hours more. “Whatever you say.”

He let out a playful whoop and chuckled, “I like that. But seriously, get some sleep.”

I expected something else. Some other heavy push. But instead, he sauntered out, flashing the bright hallway light into my dark room before locking me in dim twilight again. Whatever he had going on, he had given me the first good night’s sleep in a dark, quiet room in the past years. In an hour or so—far later than I had meant to spend in sleep—he knocked on the door and came in with a paper back with a coffee shop logo on it and a drink carrier with four generic cups and little stirring sticks in the tops.

Jack put everything on a counter and quite casually he tossed what was apparently the coffee he hated so much into the trashcan. The rattle was not so jarring as it might have been, but it still seemed loud in the relative quiet of the room. Finally, he turned towards me on the bed. “Hey, Janet. You... up?”

I sat up and nodded. “What’s up?”

“I forgot to ask you what you wanted,” he mumbled.

“Okay....?”

“So, I have chamomile tea, a mocha, a hot chocolate and a coffee with sugar. And I got a breakfast sandwich, a slice of lemon pound cake, a cakepop and a Danish.” 

“You’re hungry,” I grunted. My mouth felt furry and disgusting. Pretty sure I was disgusting and sweaty too—colds always did that to me—but at least I was only aching and not actively suffering. “What is mine?”

“Umm... what do you want first?”

“The hot chocolate, I guess?” He nodded and picked up a cup. “And the Danish?”

I gobbled down the Danish—it was still warm and the cream cheese was gooey—and gulped down the hot chocolate. God, that was sweet, decadent goodness that soothed my throat and made me sink into the bed with a smile. Jack simply chuckled and moved another cup to the bedside table. “So, what happens next?”

“Well... you take a shower. Brush your teeth. We go sign some stuff and come back here to watch the game and eat dinner.”

I laughed hoarsely. “And... do I get to see Jack, then?”

“See? What?!” A sudden, stuttering laugh rumbled out. “Oh. Umm... yeah. I guess.” His hand went up to scratch the back of his head. “I guess you’ll.... ummm.... Yeah.”

He tore into the bag and tugged out a tiny tube of toothpaste and a travel toothbrush. “The.... uhh... bathroom is through there.”

I nodded my thanks and scrambled shyly out of bed. With a mocha calling my name, I washed up with the hotel soap that claimed to be cucumber melon scented and brushed my teeth. As best I could, I used the towel and then the hotel hair dryer. Then I climbed back into my clothes and hoped that I was presentable.

He got to his feet when I came out. “Yeah... we’ll figure out things better, but for right now, we’re expected.”

I had thought it would be a room filled with cops and stuff. Instead, it was a pair of uniformed agents of Overwatch. They seemed like they knew each other well, but as soon as we stepped inside they both were stiff with sudden formality. And paperwork—they managed to have tons and tons of paperwork.

The first agent introduced herself as a representative of Overwatch legal department. The second agent nodded and explained that he was my legal assistant. They went over the most enormous pile of papers almost line by line. I was officially considered a witness in the case against my pimp and his associates, but until the case was tried and settled, I was not to communicate anything about Tony, his boys, any of the johns, or anything about what I was doing for the past few years. I was not to publish anything about anything pertinent to the trial or the johns or anyone without going through Overwatch’s legal department. I was given a refugee sort of status and extended an offer of room and board until I could be resettled. My legal assistant continually gave me little whispers and asides, most of which sounded like good advice to do things like ask about how to renew my refugee status, the time limits on my status and protections, asking about moving assistance. 

I had never felt so in need of the mocha and I sipped it sparingly as the next pile of papers were brought out. I looked at the first page—another non-disclosure agreement—and really wished that I had that lemon pound cake. So, one more time, I had my assistant explaining that this was a non-disclosure and a gag order about the people who had provided me assistance in the past two days. Mercy and Jack were named, but there were clauses that included everyone—even my legal assistant. When I signed that, I was given a small card with a phone number and a PIN that I could reach my legal assistant directly.

It was lunchtime by the time I had gone through those two documents. Another anonymous agent in the same Overwatch uniform was let in with a tray of boxed lunches and bottles of water. For some reason, I was almost disappointed when I got a turkey and cheese sandwich, a wax paper wrapped pickle and a bag of generic potato chips. The papers were put aside in a huge metal suitcase until everyone was finished eating. Then out they came again, and we started discussing clause 12, sub-clause 8, paragraph 4.

At painfully long last, after I had agreed to basically never say anything to anyone about anything and Jack had agreed (in triplicate) to help me get resettled and then I had given them my statements on Tony, his boys and all of my customers, then I was able to finally take my copies of the paperwork back to Jack’s room.

Mercy was knocking on our door almost as soon as I had gotten the papers put down. Dear, paranoid Jack kept looking through the peephole before he let her in and then loomed protectively over her shoulder as she examined me again. I still had a bit of a fever, and there was a rumbling in my lungs that she didn’t like, but she recommended rest and relaxation and a course of antibiotics that she conveniently had with her in an anonymous bottle.

Jack quite calmly led her out with a rumbling reassurance that I understood her medical instructions and then left himself. Then he stared at me for a moment. “Are you going to be okay? While I get dinner?”

“Umm... yeah?”

“Okay. I’m going to get something to eat. Be back in a few.”

And he was back with two gourmet burgers with fries, fruit slices, and a six pack of beer. I was sitting up in the bed, watching an old rerun of some kind of superhero movie. I liked superhero movies—the way that the good guys generally won, the way that the good guys were mostly good guys or at least were doing their best to be good guys, the way that the scenes were so unbelievably overdone and yet somehow believable. It wasn’t hard to pull for the superhero. He was so rarely ambiguous, so rarely a problem for the universe.

He sat the large takeout container next to me. “I... I didn’t know what you liked... uh... So—Janet—God, it’s taking me forever to not call you Sophia—so I got the Basic with the toppings on the side. Lettuce, tomato, onions. A few packages of ketchup and mustard and mayo. And American cheese. I got fries and onion rings.” Suddenly he burst out in laughter. “I really didn’t know, so I skipped the chili and everything.”

I opened the box and there was the promised burger, surrounded by steaming fries and three giant onion rings. “Looks great.”

He nodded—which looked strange since he was wearing a mask. “I always get a Bob’s Happy Belly Burger when I’m... in town.” Again he scratched the back of his head like he was almost embarrassed. Shyly, he opened his burger—a towering of burger with two meaty patties, jalapeño jack cheese and grilled peppers, a grilled slice of pineapple, teriyaki sauce, and then a jicama slaw—which was nestled in onion rings. With another shrug, he picked up the six pack and set it aside. “Sorry—Mercy caught me in the hallway and said that the beer would mess up your medications.”

So, I had water to drink with my Basic Burger and onion rings and fries, along with one of the antibiotic pills. Jack stared at me for a moment, and then nodded to himself and sat on the other bed. Finally, he took a deep breath and set aside the box.

“I guess... that you’re all signed up and stuff.” My mouth was full of juicy burger and all I could do was nod. I had signed a zillion times stating that I was never going to tell anyone about anything ever again. So, he nodded again and fiddled with the mask. It hissed and popped as he unfastened it. “So... I can... do this.”

The orange light flickered off and seemed to turn off as he got it off and set it aside. I stared at him for the first time. No—I had known him for what felt like months and I was only seeing his real face. It was a handsome face—strong and well built despite the scars that cross crossed. Baby blue eyes like a baby announcement eyes stared back at me in pale skin that seemed to be a result of hiding in the shadows like a vampire.

He tapped his chin—the adorable little dimple there—and smiled, “Yeah—not much to look at anymore.”

“N-n-no... it’s fine.” I took another gulp of water. “I mean, you’re.... very handsome.”

“A little long in the tooth, though.” He picked up an onion ring. “I guess.... we’re in this together, right, Janet?”

He looked at me and we ate our burgers in peaceful silence. We must have gone through a hundred little napkins and tissues. Finally, he was done and he set aside his empty box with a grin. “So... I guess we can talk about the elephant in the room, right?”

He turned on the game, but turned down the volume so that we could talk. He told me a terrible story—his story of the bombing of the Overwatch Watchpoint and how he survived and went to the streets—and I listened to it all with a morbid curiosity as I finished my pile of fries and nibbled thoughtfully on an onion ring. We must have been talking for ages—certainly long after the game and all of the post game parties and analysis and reporting—as I spoke of my own fall from grace.


	10. Chapter 10

That started a trend, though, as we stayed there the next few days. He’d come in at meal times and we’d talk about whatever came to mind. Then he’d have work and he’d reliably tell me to get some sleep and be careful. One or two times, he’d make that cute half frown and he’d tell me to take my medicine. He was as regular as a clock about it too—just as regular as his routine of taking off the mask when he came in and putting it back on and turning it on when he left. At night, we’d curl up together and it seemed that we couldn’t possibly fall asleep fast enough as we slept back to back or curled up together in a nest of blankets and pillows.

It was second nature in two days as he kept investigating the guy comings and goings that I knew only as ‘Gabe’. They were searching everywhere, asking all of the neighborhood if anyone had seen him. I only knew that much—I had no idea about the details except that he was doing the investigating. In the meanwhile, I had to only rest and watch television and take my medicine.

I thought nothing of the knock at the door. Last night, Jack had mentioned he was hungry for carne asada and a margarita. He had brought in three bags with nachos, two carne asada specials with all the fixings, a bottle of mix and a pile of warm tortillas and had knocked on the door like a Boy Scout. He even had a paper bag with a small bottle of tequila. The night before, for lunch, he had managed to find shish kebabs with salad, rice, naan and a hummus platter and a department store bag with a few changes of underwear and a nice nightshirt. 

No, I thought nothing of the knock on the door despite the late night hour. Jack probably had his hands full again. I had wanted something delicious and had chosen Chinese. That probably meant that he had ordered a huge variety of foods and enough rice to feed an army. I had taken a nap as the doctor had suggested and it was now dark, but honestly, it was worth it to go and meet Jack every night. So, I went up to the door wearing my nightgown and opened it with a smile.

A dark form in a trench coat and a freakish mask smiled down at me. “There you are, nina.” His hand shot out to grab my throat. “And now I’ll take care of you.”

My eyes flicked wildly and I saw two sets of uniformed legs in the hallway. My vision flickered and I felt something attach itself to my body. Immediately, I felt a draining feeling that made me weak and inexplicably sleepy. My hands dropped and my legs stopped kicking.

Nothing seemed important and I felt myself fading.

Then there was a brilliant flash and I felt myself falling. I hit the carpeted floor hard and gasped for breath. The huge, dark form whirled around and I shuddered to see it pull out a huge hand cannon of a gun. Then another flash and I gagged to smell something burning.

Then, it was like the dark form transformed into smoke and blew away. 

Jack appeared in the doorway with a heavy pulse rifle. I wheezed as the orange mask whipped into the room, then to me, then down the hallway where the black smoke has disappeared. He held the rifle like it was nothing, and I was sure that he’d hit his target every time.

There was a shifting in his orange gaze down at me at then down the hallway as I heard other people shouting. He shifted back and forth indecisively and then finally dropped to me. “You okay?!”

I nodded weakly and he shot to his feet. He shouted and ran down the hallway, with thundering boots catching up to him. I managed to get to my knees by the time the second wave of people came through. I finally got a chance to look around and saw Mercy with two people in androgynous scrubs began cleaning up those who were wounded. There weren’t many—thankfully—and she was right next to me and checking my vitals.

In a few moments, she gave me an impish smile. “Well, you’re three.” At my blank, shocked look, she smirked and nodded at one of the assistants. “One of the lucky few to face the Reaper and live to tell the tale.”

I gasped and coughed as my breath rattled around in my bruised throat. I knew that husky, bass voice and it still sent terrified shivers through me. I pictured Tony and his boys and could only force myself to look around the anonymous, hotel hallway and repeatedly tell myself that I was out—finally.

The big man in the colorful jacket and orange mask stomped up the hallway again. His face looked back and forth and I could almost hear the violent curses. But, rather than cuffing the scrawny agent that clambered past him, he let out a low grunt and kept stomping forward. Then there was a moment when he saw—really saw—me and I struggled to hide my grin as his bulky shoulders dropped.

Mercy coughed and got my attention again. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

I nodded blearily and took the heavily gloved hand to stand up. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

The soldier grunted sourly and shrugged. “He got out into the alleys through the kitchen back door.” His voice dropped and I saw him give a short hand gesture to Mercy who nodded back to him. “Athena is scanning the area now.”

Mercy cleared her throat delicately and answered in overly loud way. “Well, put our patient back to bed.”

I really did hear a click of heavy booted heels and he nodded and raised the rifle up in a salute. And without another grunt, he herded me into the room again. It was dark lit up with blotchy afterimages of large commercial lights and ridiculously nondescript lamps. I fumbled through a large greenish yellow patch in front of my eyes and hit the first bed only to collapse in the mussed sheets.

My Jack’s voice filled the room, “You already going to go to bed without me, baby?”

I giggled slightly and managed climb up the bed again. The world was right again as Jack’s mask scanned the room. He let out another laugh and I heard the closet door slide open and the rifle thud down then the closet closed again. Then he climbed on the bed with me.

“Baby....” Rough gloved fingers went to my face, stroking my hair back and running down my neck. “Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I whispered. “Just... really tired and really... a little scared. I didn’t think that... that anyone could find me here.”

“He’s going to be captured, Janet,” he rumbled softly against my hair. “It’s only a matter of time.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“And in the meantime, miss, you should probably rest,” he chuckled.

“But I feel fine,” I protested.

His hand went to my breast and cupped it. “You sure do.”

I did feel better now and felt quite comfortable rolling over to face him. Even with the mask, I could brush kisses to his sweaty brow and run my fingers through the stubbly pale hair on top. I could reach unzip his heavy jacket and feel the sweaty, tight t-shirt just over his thickly muscled chest. I struggled with his worn leather belt at his waist and then to the cargo pants. I reached inside with practiced fingers to the worn boxers to pull his hard cock out.

He shuddered—my Jack—shuddered with a soft cry as I bent over it and touched it with my tongue. “Oh, baby—you are a.... God, Jesus in heaven, you are sweet.”

He tasted of sweat and clean, well cared for leather. Then a bit of saline saltiness. He shifted and his hands went to pull down the thick pants and the thin cotton boxers. I worked on the coat, the little buckles for the straps that held ammunition and guns. He helped me, pulling the coat and mask off and shoving everything off the bed as fast as it came off.

Then he grabbed me by the arms and pulled me right up to him. He was so strong, so steady as he pulled the nightgown off and threw it aside as well. I was shocked at him, his body. He was strong and seemed made of muscles. Screw Richard Gere—this was fantastic and oh so real. I stroked his skin in amazement that somehow I was the one that was safe and warm and well fed.

Then I hit the first scar. What had that bought? I shuddered to feel the raised ridge of skin that ran across his chest. The slightly wrinkled one that dipped into his cheek—what had happened to cause that? I could feel the tears gather in my eyes as I licked his cheek, as I kissed down his neck and then let my nails scrape his chest.

“You’re gonna make me explode,” he growled in my ear.

“Oh, I know all the tricks,” I promised him gleefully as my fingers went down to wrap around his cock. “I know just how to make you cum.”

He flopped back. “Okay, baby. Do your worst.”

I began with his belly, lapping and teasing his adorable outie bellybutton. He moaned when my nails scraped his chest and ran across his nipples. I took his fingers in my mouth, nipped the tips as my hand went to cup his balls in my palm. It seemed like he like everything, from when I nibbled down the cords of muscles down his neck to when my fingers stroked the tender skin between his thighs.

Everywhere I could, I worshipped those scars. Every one, I kissed. I stroked it. I nipped one or two, teased them with just the tips of my teeth. He shook, his huge hands digging into the bedsheets as he simply let me do whatever I wanted. I could kiss him as I pleased. I could stroke any part of him. He let me do as I wanted, not even a token shyness as I got closer and closer to his straining cock.

Finally, he did reach up and bury his fingers in my hair. He grazed my cheeks and brushed away the slight tears on my cheeks. He had huge hands and reached down to stroke whatever I would let him. As soon as I bent to suckle his cock, he curled up to push a finger up against my wetness and to find that little place that made me gasp in delight.

This was the totally opposite experience of anything I had known. I had been served up to all kinds of men, let them do whatever they wanted, for however long they could afford. But this wasn’t simply a role reversal, this was mutual giving. If I kissed his cheek, he did the same to me in the same careful gentleness. He pushed up, thrust into my mouth or against my hand with soft little sounds in that rumbling voice that shook as much as I did.

“I want more of you,” he purred roughly. I nodded with my mouth full of his fingers and my empty hand stroking his warm, slick skin. “It’s okay, right, sweetheart?”

I paused for a heady moment and nodded again. He grinned—a flash of pearly white—and pulled me to straddle him. With his hands guiding my hips, he pulled me on top of him. God, he was stiff, so hard, it was like I was sitting in fire. I tried it, tried the first, hesitant up and down to press against him hip to hip.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

I bent forward, my belly feeling like it had an urgent life of its own, to kiss his lips. Immediately both hands came up to thread through my hair and pull me down. Even then, he was somehow thrusting with me, drugging me into pleasure like I had never felt. When he rolled, holding me in his arms, he kept that sharing, that giving feeling, adding to the sweetness I had thought I would never know.

Fire lit me up with that first deep thrust. The second thrust had me whining against his lips. I couldn’t help that feeling that was making me dig my fingers into his muscles, making me buck up eagerly to that heady feeling of grinding against him. 

“You’re gonna make this old man explode,” he growled as he went even faster.

“You gotta keep up with me, old man,” I teased back.

I couldn’t tell if that was the right thing to say or the wrong thing to say. Every muscle tensed and he began a heady, thumping rhythm as if his life depended on it. Pushing fire into me and then when my fingers lost their grip on his sweaty back and my nails dug in, growling like he felt the same heady feeling. His hands gripped my hips, cradling my ass in two rough palms only to pull me harder up on his cock.

I felt the world shatter into starlight as his mouth fastened on my neck and his thrusting hammered into me. I wanted to scream his name—but his mouth was right there, swallowing it right from my lips. I convulsed around him, my nails skating along his skin and all but screaming.

Then he thrust quickly, driving hard and desperately until I literally felt every part of him shake and then still. He panted wildly, his whole body trembling as he lowered himself gently to kiss my face.

“You okay, baby?” he rumbled. He didn’t even seem to notice that my nails had drawn red lines all across his shoulders and down his arms that would show up as late as the next evening. “You are... so beautiful. That was so beautiful.”

I couldn’t resist a last stretch and to cradle him in my arms and legs. “You are great.”

“So are you, baby.” He pulled back and then off to one side to collapse on the bed. “You sure make this old man feel decades younger.”

I hugged him, relieved to feel him wrap his arms around me and tuck my head under his chin. Restlessly, he pulled and arranged the covers and pillows to cuddle right up against me. When he was finally satisfied, he let out a rumbling sound and settled in like a bear going to hibernate for the winter.

“You comfortable, old man?” I smirked in the darkness.

“Only if you are.”

I paused and settled down beside him, let the big man relax in his protective sprawl. The hotel room was quiet and dark and the hour late. We had had an exciting night—an exciting week—and had a right to be exhausted. All fire and excitement and arousal and now the warmth of embers to warm us to sleep.

His hand went to stroke my cheek, my hair. Ever so slowly, he traced his finger along my skin. “Baby, I’m always going to protect you.” He pressed another slow kiss to my hair. “Now and always.”


End file.
